


Monstruo Misericordioso

by TheJackieMo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Claiming, Claiming Bites, F/M, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Mpreg, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Stockholm Syndrome, Vaginal Fingering, Werewolf Mates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-01-09 02:56:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12267462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJackieMo/pseuds/TheJackieMo
Summary: The visit to the grave of James and Lily Potter didn't go as planned on Christmas of 1997. Someone was waiting for them...





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. They had been so careful not to be followed that Harry and Hermione hadn’t really considered that they were being waited for. It became horrifyingly clear though, after Voldemort’s most prized horcrux leapt from the body of poor Bathilda Bagshot, intent on killing the pair. Scrambling to escape the house, Hermione grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him toward the nearest exit, a window, and attempted to apparate away. Unfortunately they found themselves landing in a bush below, leading the witch to suspect anti-apparition wards had been erected at some point after they arrived.

“Harry!” Hermione tried not to scream at her friend who was still struggling to rid himself of the bush’s prickly branches. “We have to run!”

The snake was closing in on them as they raced down the road, occasionally trying, and failing, to apparate away.

“Hermione, where’s my wand?” The Chosen One shouted over the adrenaline-laced blood rushing through their ears. The brunette witch’s mouth formed a grim line as she glanced at him and again attempted to apparate.

“I-I think we landed on-“ she was abruptly cut off by a stunning spell that came from somewhere behind them. They thought they only had to worry about the snake! But just as Harry was about to stop to help her, another stunner hit him square in the back.

It looked like Fenrir Greyback was going to have a Happy Christmas after all. After pocketing the witch’s wand, he slung Undesirables Numbers One and Two over his shoulders, brought down the anti-apparition wards, and disappeared with a crack.

~~~~0000~~~~

 

Instead of appearing at Malfoy Manor, the werewolf arrived at a large clearing in the middle of some unexplored forest. It was late, so visibility was low, but fortunately his senses of smell and hearing brought him through the woods with ease. His two charges hung limp over his shoulders and contributed almost no weight with their burden. They were too thin. He would need to change that if his plans were to be successful. His trek took longer than he had hoped so late at night, but he finally arrived at a large wooden gate that rose almost fifteen feet high.

“Ian!” He called out to the top of the watch tower that stood next to the structure. Instantly, a face appeared in the darkness and smiled.

“Alpha?” He called back. “Is that you? Don’t move, I’ll let you in right away!”

Greyback huffed in annoyance for having to wait, but tried to reign in his temper. Ian hadn’t known he would be back this late, so he really shouldn’t fault him. As the gate cracked open enough for him to walk through, Ian beamed at him from the other side.

“Alpha! We’re so glad you’re back!” The shorter man was practically bouncing on his toes as he welcomed his Alpha home, unaware of the larger werewolf’s fatigue. “What’ve you got there?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Greyback mumbled, shifting the slight weight on his shoulders. The other man nodded, not put out in the slightest, and waved his Alpha along, farther into the territory.

It was only around two in the morning, so nearly everyone was still in bed, which made the large werewolf’s journey to his own home easier. It would be a long process if he had to stop every five feet for someone welcoming him back. As it was, he needed to make two stops already. After another ten minutes of walking beyond the gate, Fenrir finally made it to stop number one, a small structure that could have easily been used as a shed at some point in the past.

He made quick work of the lock on the door and entered the warm room inside. It was tidy, almost cozy, but simple. There was a bed, a table, a fireplace, and a screen door that led to the quaint washroom. It was on the bed that he deposited the witch first. She landed with a soft thud but made no sound or movement. Confident that she would not wake in the time it took him to leave the room, Fenrir turned and carried the Boy-Who-Lived back outside. He then carefully warded the building to be soundproof and stay locked until he returned.

Stop number two was only a few steps away, in a similar structure. There were in fact many of these shed-buildings scattered throughout the general area, all sharing similar features. The werewolf unlocked this door as well and made his way towards the bed of the similarly furnished room. Dropping the boy from his shoulders took little effort, but he was glad to be free of the discomfort that carrying him brought to his neck.

After stepping back and cracking the kinks out, he stretched his arms over his head and sighed. He glanced back down at the young man in front of him and a small grin alighted his features. It certainly was a Happy Christmas.

Slowly, he approached the bed once more, and saw that the Chosen One may have transitioned from being stunned to simply being asleep, and as his deep breaths made his chest rise and fall slowly, Fenrir could see the dark circles beneath the youth’s eyes. He very likely needed a good night’s rest; the Dark Lord had been hunting him for many months after all. But what many weren’t aware of, was that the Dark Lord didn’t need Potter dead, simply out of the way. After all, if the Savior wasn’t around to kill him, then he had nothing to worry about. It was because of this that the dark wizard, in all his benevolence, had decreed that any Death Eater who captured Harry Potter would be able to keep him and do as they wished, as extra incentive to capture the boy.

And Fenrir Greyback wished to claim a mate. A willing mate. Preferably more than one. And he would make sure that the Chosen One and his witch friend were willing whether they liked it or not.

Gazing down at the raven-haired wizard, Greyback began to unbutton the youth’s trousers and slide them down his thighs, taking special care to touch as much of the boy’s skin as possible. He spied the slight bulge in his underwear and licked his lips. Yes, he would make a fine mate indeed. He continued to disrobe the wizard, pulling the trousers down all the way, before making quick work of the red underwear and hiking up his shirt.

The appendage hung limply, but Fenrir was determined to change that. Again, he made sure to check that the boy didn’t stir awake as he trailed his hands up his legs, placing his palm firmly on the ballsack between the Savior’s legs. Gently, he rolled them in his hand, before lowering himself so his face was on level with the boy’s chest. Gripping one of Potter’s thighs for balance, he flicked his tongue out to graze one of the nipples before him and continuing his ministrations on the lower half of his body. He felt the boy’s cock twitch against his hand, and flicked the nipple again, garnering the same reaction. Fenrir smiled to himself. He would enjoy this very much.

Eager to get things moving along, he withdrew himself from the body before him and disrobed completely, before returning to his position above the wizard and cradling the boy’s balls once again. This time though, he summoned a bottle of lube he had stored in the drawer of the small table near the wall. Generously applying some to his other hand he began to firmly stroke the boy’s twitching cock and resume licking and nipping at his chest.

With each stroke and bite, the body below Fenrir began to grow hotter, but remained unconscious. As the seconds went by, the boy’s breathing became faster and he uttered small whimpers.

“That’s it, boy. You like this don’t you?” Greyback said from above him, slickening his fingers with more of the gel.

Slowly, he moved the hand rubbing the boy’s balls farther south, to meet the puckered flesh of his entrance. He traced the skin with one finger, before gently breaching it, stroking every inch as he slid the digit in further. Potter moaned at the intrusion and his eyebrows scrunched together in his sleep. He didn’t wake though, so Fenrir massaged the boy’s chute and pushed a second finger to join the first. The body squirmed below him and the werewolf growled in delight as the boy hardened in his hand.

It didn’t take long before Fenrir had the Chosen one humping his cock into his fist as the werewolf pumped his fingers, now three of them, into the tight channel of his entrance. Perhaps the boy was still under some effects of the stunning spell from earlier because he didn’t wake, even though he was clearly approaching his climax. It was at this point that Greyback drew back, coated his own stiff cock liberally with the lube and began to inch his cock into the body before him. He took extra care to go slowly so as not to damage his new prize. He planned on using it often after all.

The boy gasped at penetration and moaned as it slid farther into him. Suspecting he might be in some pain, Greyback brought the boy’s legs up to hook over his shoulders, making the entranceway easier to accept him, before he pulled out most of the way and pushed back in a bit faster. Fenrir was panting too at this point, nearly overcome with the tightness of Potter’s chute.

“Yes. Yes,” He gasped as his strokes gradually turned into pounding. “Take my cock little bitch and like it. You’re mine. _Mine,_ ” he growled.

Greyback knew he would have to stay clearheaded for the final part of this, despite how much he wanted to give into his primal instincts and just pound away at the boy’s ass until he’d broken every bone in the Chosen One’s body. No, to properly complete his claim, he would have to make sure not to hurt him too badly and bite only when they came, which would be very, very soon.

Fenrir lowered himself further, forcing the writhing body on the bed to bend nearly in half. He licked at the boy’s chest and made his way up to his neck, leaving small bruises where his love bites traveled. He heard a high whine break free from the boy’s lips and, just as the pair climaxed together, Fenrir laved the spot where the boy’s neck met his shoulder, and bit hard.

He roared his release and the cock trapped between them spurted its own come across their stomachs and chests. As he lay there, on top of the boy, he could taste the blood in his mouth and feel the magic of his claiming mark spread over the both of them and he sighed in contentment. It wasn’t for another few minutes that Greyback withdrew from the tight passage, watching as his come leaked from the Savior’s raw opening. Still, he did not wake.

Fenrir was exhausted, but was determined not to stick around. No doubt the boy would figure out what had happened when he woke, and the werewolf wasn’t particularly in the mood to deal with that when it happened. Instead, he hastily performed a cleaning charm on himself, redressed, warded the room, and locked the door on his way out.

All of his activities had taken less than an hour and it was still too early in the morning for anyone else to be awake, with the exception of the odd sentry. Giving a slight wave to one who happened to be walking past, Fenrir made his way to another building, this one much bigger than the rest; he was Alpha after all.

The front door to his home was unlocked, as usual. No one in his pack would ever dare enter without his permission.  He made his way to his own washroom and turned the shower on. As the water heated up, he undressed, eager to rid himself of the filth of tracking his two charges for over a month. His adventures had taken him all across the UK, offering him little time for personal hygiene.

The hot water ran over the sore muscles of the werewolf’s back once he stepped inside. He grabbed a flannel that was hanging on a nearby hook and lathered himself with his favorite soap, relishing the clean feeling. He washed his cock last, retaining the scent of his new mate for as long as possible.

Once he finished, the water had gotten cooler and he stepped out of the large shower, dripping onto the floor. He gave little thought to his nudity, allowing himself to air dry as he exited his washroom and dropped himself onto his spacious bed. Soon, he told himself, his mates would enjoy this bed with him.

~~~~0000~~~~

Hermione stirred when a stray beam of sunlight peeked through a glass panel in the ceiling of her new abode. At first, she burrowed deeper into the comfort of a soft bed underneath her. However, once her mind woke more fully, her eyes snapped open and she sprang into a sitting position. She found herself alone in the small room, with only a modest fire crackling in the grate for company. Glancing around, she was unable to find her wand and determined that whoever had brought her there must have taken it. With what little she had at her disposal, she began searching for an escape.

It must have been two hours before the witch decided to take a small break. Having found no plausible chance of breaking through the front door, she had begun trying to reach the glass window in the ceiling. She wasn’t tall enough however, so had tried to MacGyver a solution to her problem. After the two hours, her table, chair and the bed linens were all stacked on top of each other to reach the ceiling. It was taller than it had appeared though, and she still couldn’t reach.

She had been sitting on the bed for a few minutes when she heard a rustling at the door. Had someone come to kill her? Turn her over to Voldemort? She didn’t think it was either, at least, if it was, then why would they keep her in a reasonably nice prison? Grabbing the only thing she could manage to turn into any sort of weapon, Hermione pulled the lightweight chair off of the table and held it in front of her in defense.

The door opened and in walked the most notorious werewolf in all of Britain, Fenrir Greyback. Had _he_ been the one to kidnap her? Where was Harry? She gripped the back of the chair more firmly, making sure the legs aimed at the monster before her looked as threatening as possible.

“Hello, little witch. I see you’re awake,” Greyback shot her a toothy grin that looked almost feral.

“Where am I?” Hermione wasted no time with pleasantries, but she watched the man make his way around her and place a tray of food that she hadn’t noticed him carrying before on the table she had moved. If she hadn’t been standing in front of a deadly werewolf, she might have noticed that it smelled heavenly.

“We’re in our territory,” he answered simply, turning back to her from his new spot in the center of the room.

“Where’s Harry.” Greyback chuckled at how she demanded these answers instead of asking nicely. It might be endearing now, but he would have to train that out of her for later.

“Your _Savior_ is here too. You’ll see him eventually, I think.”

“You _think_ ,” she held the chair up higher.

“Well, it all depends on how good you two are.” The girl scoffed at him and took a daring step forward, clearly trying to show that she wasn’t afraid of him. Her scent told a different story.

“I suppose you’d love for me to grovel at your master’s feet, wouldn’t you. Well, it’s not going to happen!” With a burst of reckless courage, the witch thrust the chair forward, aiming for the werewolf’s head with its legs, and made a run for the door he had entered in. Of course, she found it locked once again, and she was now unarmed with an angry werewolf. She hadn’t realized that she completely missed her target when she threw the chair, and that Greyback watched in amusement as she attempted to escape. He stormed up behind her as she struggled with the doorknob and slammed his palms against the frame when he reached her, causing her to jump in surprise as she turned to face him, finding his only inches from hers.

“It’s not the Dark Lord you’ll be groveling for, Sweeting.” With a growl, he grabbed her by the back of the neck and nearly dragged her to the small bed. She began to scream as his clawed fingers dug into her scalp and she was roughly thrown on the stripped mattress. As soon as she landed, she scrambled back towards the headboard, falling off the side and banging her knee on the floor. Greyback laughed heartily at her attempts to flee, knowing she didn’t stand a chance. She must have realized this as well because she had even begun to cry.

As the witch pushed off of the floor to get away, he grabbed her by the arm, pulled her in close, and pinned it behind her back. Her back was now facing him, with her arm trapped between them, and her sobs grew louder as Greyback used his free hand to wrap around her front and cup her breasts. She screamed again when his hand moved farther south, cupping the area between her legs and rubbing her through her jeans. It was then that he began to unbutton them and shift them down her legs. Of course, she struggled the whole time, determined not to let him get his way so easily. Fenrir was fine with that for now though. Before long, she would crave his touch.

Once her jeans had been pushed down to her knees, the werewolf was able to feel the soft cotton of her knickers. He used the hand that traveled over her body to hold her harder against him, so that he could use his dominant hand to rid himself of his own trousers. Once he had kicked them off, he ground his cock in the valley of her cheeks through her knickers. He had chosen to forego underwear for this very reason, relishing the sensation of the young woman in front of him.

Fenrir didn’t much care to take her standing the way they were and it would likely make claiming her a tad more difficult, so he shuffled her forward a few steps and forced her to bend over the side of the bed. She screamed and struggled, of course, but he paid little attention to it. He instead focused again on rubbing her through the thin cloth separating them. She struggled against his touch, bringing her knee up to block the movement of his hands, but despite her protests, he could feel an undeniable dampening of the cloth beneath his hand. Whether she liked it or not, she was becoming aroused by his ministrations.

When he next moved to peel off her knickers, she screamed some more. The obscenities spewing from her mouth should never be tolerated by an Alpha and he would make sure she never uttered them again, but for now, he had a goal set in mind, so he brought the underwear to join her bunched up jeans, and shoved her chest into the mattress, muffling her protests. When Fenrir was confident that she wouldn’t struggle more than one arm could handle, he brought his hand back to her mound, slipping past the lips to the now-slick nub beneath her folds.

She began to gasp between her sobs after a few moments of rubbing, and flinched when he stroked her on her most sensitive spot. Through her tears, Fenrir could see a flush come over her and he could smell her arousal in the air. Farther south his finger went and, when he reached the entrance to her cunt, he stifled a groan. She was so wet, despite her struggles against him.

“No!” She screamed again when he slipped a finger into her. “No no no no no…” She repeated dejectedly into the fabric of the mattress as he continued his gentle fingering of her pussy. He mostly did this for the entertainment of watching her deny what her body clearly wanted. He could already tell that it was more than ready to accept him.

Reluctantly, he withdrew his fingers and lined his cock up with her entrance from behind. When she felt his cockhead gracing her folds, she screamed one last time and he roughly pushed into her. Her sobs grew in volume for the first few thrusts, before quieting to soft whimpers once more. Every other thrust, a groan began to join the symphony of noises she made and her walls began to flutter in anticipation of her unwanted release.

In preparation for what was to come, Fenrir lowered himself so he was lying almost entirely on top of her, with his lips to her neck, where it met her left shoulder. He kissed and licked the spot he would mark as he stroked her clit two-three-four more times. She involuntarily ground against his hand and backwards onto his cock and screamed as her climax rushed over her. Fenrir’s hit him as well and, as he did with the boy, his sharp teeth broke the skin at the base of her neck, marking her as his.

She continued to cry as he bottomed out inside her, his prick twitching with every spurt of come. When he was sure he was done, Fenrir slowly slid out of her, once again admiring the leaking fluid escaping from her spent entrance and the shiver of magic as their mate bond settled. When he let her go and rose to stand, she fell to the floor in defeat, choking on her tears.

“You’re a monster,” he heard her whisper after he pulled his trousers back up and made his way to the exit.

“That may be, but at least I get what I want.” He smirked at her from over his shoulder and glanced at the bed that had been stripped of its linens, to the still steaming meal he had brought for her. “Have something to eat, Sweeting. You’re skin and bones.” And with those final words, Hermione Granger found herself alone once more.

Once Greyback was sure the door was securely shut, he made his way back to the kitchens to fetch some breakfast for his other mate. As he had done with the witch’s meal, he collected a number of healthy options and a glass of juice. Again, just as he had done with the girl, he pulled a small vial from his pocket and let just a drop fall into the glass.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 

When Harry Potter first woke, the sun was shining and he could hear birds chirping through the glass window in the ceiling of his room. It took him a few sleepy moments to realize that he didn't actually know where this room was, or how he had gotten there. It took less than another moment for him to become aware of the sharp sting on his neck and the aching pain in his backside. It burned and stung and just plain hurt all at once. If he wasn't sure his legs were fully functional, he might have thought his back was broken.

Gingerly, he attempted to rise to a sitting position atop the soft bed he was laying on. Looking around, he could find nothing sinister, but that horrible pain wouldn't go away. In an attempt to figure out anything that could help him, Harry tried to mentally retrace his steps. The last thing he could remember was...running from Nagini and...nothing. Oh wait! Hermione had been stunned! Hermione! Where was she? He looked around the small room again, but didn't see her.

"Hermione?" He called out, already knowing he wouldn't hear a response.

Almost unnoticed among his confusing situation, Harry finally realized he was completely naked from the waist down, and his shirt was rucked up to his shoulders. Pulling it down, he slid from the edge of the bed he sat on. Once he did though, he felt something particularly slimy between his thighs. Looking down, he saw a whitish smear staining his legs.

Beginning to panic, he brought his hand to the fluid, noting its consistency, and traced it back towards his backside. As he touched his anus, the sting grew and he winced at the pain. As the horrifying realization dawned on Harry, he began to hyperventilate and his gaze darted around the room. What he was looking for he wasn't sure. Unable to help himself, distressed whimpers escaped him as he struggled to collect his thoughts and calm himself. His eyes clenched shut and "no" and other words of denial replayed in his head as he took deep breaths. It was sometime later that Harry finally calmed down enough to stand and pull his trousers back on. His hands still shook but at least he could think. He had to find a way out.

He didn't get a chance to try though, before a clicking of the door unlocking could be heard. Unsure what to do without his wand, Harry stood next to the bed dumbly. When he saw who walked through the doorway though, his jaw dropped open and he took several unconscious steps back, shaking his head in denial.

Fenrir Greyback stood there, holding a tray of breakfast foods. Almost without acknowledging his young mate, the werewolf strolled into the house and set the meal on the table. Harry had backed into the far wall by that point, still shaking his head.

"Come, pet." Greyback ordered. Motioning to the only seat in the room. "You need to eat."

Despite clinging to the wall, Harry's feet seemed to have a mind of their own and he felt a tug in his gut to do as Greyback said. He somehow resisted though, staying mostly where he was, only having taken two steps in compliance. This appeared to irritate the werewolf because he glared at the wizard when he made no further movement.

"Come. Now." The tug was stronger this time. Too strong for Harry's hunger to resist. With a deep, terrified breath, the Chosen One cautiously walked towards the monster and sat down as he commanded. "Eat." And Harry did. Carefully at first, but then with more gusto. Slowly, the hunger pains in his stomach abated and he was reluctantly grateful for the meal, even if he suspected it was poisoned. Greyback however made no move to hurt him and only watched and the small man ate. If Harry didn't know better, he would swear he heard a sort of purring coming from the larger man's chest. But that would be ridiculous.

"Don't forget to wash it down," the werewolf told him and Harry realized he had eaten so fast he had the sensation of food being stuck in his throat, so he took the glass of pumpkin juice and took a generous gulp. It was so refreshing the boy wanted to cry. But he wouldn't because that would show more weakness than he'd already displayed and he couldn't afford that. Instead, he finished his meal and washed the rest down with the remaining juice. When he sat back in the chair, he cast Greyback a wary eye but was met with only a satisfied smirk.

"Do you feel better now, pet?"

"I'm not your pet," Harry spat before he could consider the potential consequences.

"No, of course you're not. You're my mate," his smirk grew wider. The raven haired wizard's eyes grew twice their size as his brows knit together.

"...I'm...what?" Before he even got a response, the wizard had stood from the chair and was slowly backing away again.

"You, the great Harry Potter, have been claimed as my mate." The werewolf sauntered towards Harry, who continued to back towards the opposite wall, like a true wolf stalking its prey. "And soon you will bear my pups."

"N-no! That's impossible!" Harry snarled at him, finally backed into a corner.

"But it is, pet." Greyback reached the young wizard and loomed over him in the space between the bed and the wall, effectively trapping the boy. "And you'll be an obedient bitch and take my cock whenever I please. And you'll love it."

"Never!" Harry shouted back, although his face had been drained of all color and he looked like he might be sick. "I'm a man! That's not possible!"

"But it is, if a werewolf lays claim and marks you. And look there," Greyback said as if he only just noticed. He motioned to the claiming mark he had left on the boy the previous night. "I already have. Soon you'll swell with my seed and beg to be filled again and again."

"No!" Harry had had enough of this and attempted to duck under the werewolf’s arms that caged him. He was successful, but struggled to climb over the bed, his next obstacle. Greyback laughed and grabbed his mate by the ankle, dragging him down the he mattress, flipping him so they faced each other, and pinned the boy’s hands above his head.

As the young wizard glared at his attacker, Greyback could see a slight flush slowly creeping up his neck. The potion was beginning to do its work. To encourage the potion to work faster, the werewolf brought his mouth down to his prey's and crushed their lips together in a rigorous kiss. It was clearly one sided but as he forced his tongue into the youth's mouth and massaged his tongue with his own, he could feel the heat that the potion caused rise within the boy, gradually breaking his inhibitions and bringing forth a lust that only Fenrir could sate.

Fenrir smirked against the Chosen One's mouth and pressed his chest harder against that of the wizard's, and ground his rapidly growing bulge against the one below him. He heard a stifled groan come from the boy and brought his dominant hand down to the waistline of the youth's trousers.

Fenrir had already had his way with his other bitch this morning, but he found he was already ready to go for round two. Fortunately, the wizard's body below him was all too willing, even if the boy’s mind didn't agree.

Once Harry felt the large callused hand reach for the buttons on his trousers, his senses came back to him and shouted for the werewolf to stop. He cried out over and over as the hand pulled the clothing past his hips and down his thighs. At one point, Greyback moved his rough kisses from Harry's mouth to his jaw and his neck and, although Harry couldn't explain or understand what was happening, when the werewolf reached a certain spot at the base of his throat, a violent shiver of ecstasy rippled through him and the stain of precome on his underwear grew.

"No! Stop! Leave me alone!" He weakly cried out and he felt tears burn his eyes, as he felt Greyback pull down the boy’s underwear. "Don't do this! You don't have to do this!"

"I know I don't _have_ to, pet," the werewolf growled from his spot at Harry's neck, sending another thrill of pleasure to the boy's cock. "I _want_ to. And you want to too."

"No! No I d-don't!" Harry was beginning to lose the battle against the lust growing in him and his words were beginning to fail him. Meanwhile, his hips took on a mind of their own as they began rising to meet those of the man on top of him and one of his legs struggled to hook around the werewolf’s waist. " _Please_."

"Yes, that's it mate," Greyback growled again, cupping the Savior's balls and massaging them firmly. "Beg me like the bitch you are. Beg me like a bitch in heat."

"N-n-no... p- _please_..." Harry gasped as Fenrir grasped his cock with the hand that had been holding the boys arms and slowly stroked it. He put up almost no physical fight now, seemingly given up as Fenrir ravished him.

The werewolf returned his attention of Harry's mating mark, causing the boy to cry out in bliss again and his cock to leak more precome into Fenrir’s hand. Encouraged to continue, he then slid the other hand between the wizard's asscheeks, feeling the slickness that being the Alpha's bonded submissive mate caused. He felt at the entrance to the boys channel and purred in appreciation when he felt the skin there flutter around his fingers and more slickness leak out. He pressed in, earning a moan from his mate, who had taken to gripping the bedsheets.

"P-please." Neither man knew if Harry was begging the Alpha to stop or continue at that point, nor did Greyback care. He would do with his bitch as he wanted and right then, he wanted to fill him with pups. Quickly he did away with his trousers and lined his cock up with the dripping entrance before him.

"You ready, pet? I'm gonna fuck you until you're screaming for your Alpha fill you with pups over and over." Harry only managed to whimper and grip the sheets tighter with tightly closed eyes.

Greyback slid inside in one fluid movement and stayed seated in the wizard for a moment, relishing the feel of the tight body around him. He heard another whimper and looked down to the flushed body below him that was wriggling in search of more friction. Chuckling to himself, Fenrir pulled his hips back and snapped forward again, earning a startled gasp from the youth. Again he snapped his cock into the body, this time earning a cry of pleasure. He had found the wizards prostate. Now that he knew the proper angle, Fenrir began a frantic pace, pounding into the Chosen One, whose cries of pleasure escalated, despite his initial disgust.

As Fenrir felt his orgasm barrel forward, he crushed his lips to his mates again, surprised to get an eager response as his tongue explored the youth’s mouth. He somewhat reluctantly moved his kisses from his mate's and trailed his way back to the mating mark, sucking and biting on it. In what seemed no time at all after this, Fenrir felt his mate's walls clench around him as his climax overtook him with a scream of ecstasy. The action caused the werewolf's own release to spill into the loosened body beneath him, pumping the chute full of his seed.

Both men lay panting on the bed for what might have been a few minutes or a few hours. However long it was, it wasn't long enough for Fenrir before Harry came back to his senses and struggled to push the larger man away.

“Get off! Get _off_!” The Savior screamed. He only succeeded in irritating the werewolf, who drew back slightly to scowl at the wizard. Instead of getting off immediately though, Fenrir rutted against the boy’s ass once more, earning a pleasured gasp from the body beneath him. He smirked once he confirmed that the lust potion he had put in the boy’s juice would stay active for the next twenty-four hours, just as he had planned. Fenrir shifted to lean on his elbows as he withdrew from Harry’s hole, pleasantly surprised to hear a quiet whimper at the loss.

As the werewolf righted his clothes, he caught the wizard glaring at him from his prone position on the bed.

“Soon,” Fenrir told him, “you’ll be begging for more of that. Very soon, I think.”

“Never,” was Harry’s only response as he stared coldly at the monster before him. Greyback quirked an eyebrow and then made his way to exit the room. Harry didn’t even bother trying to escape that way, already assuming that it would be locked once the werewolf stepped through. He would need to find another way out.

Harry’s misery hit him as soon as the front door clicked shut. He immediately brought his hand to his face to cover his tears, feeling emasculated by what had happened. He knew it was ridiculous to feel that way, knowing that there was very little he could do to stop it from happening, still his tears fell and he howled his frustration into the soundproof walls.

About half an hour later, he finally stood from the bed and dressed himself. He was even sorer than he had been when he woke up earlier and now he had the added feeling of the werewolf’s semen leaking from his bum. He tried not to think of that though as he scoured the walls for any weak panels. Finding none, he tried, in vain, to open the door. He knew it wouldn’t work, but the lack of success with the rest of the building had begun to make him desperate. His last thought was the window in the ceiling.

Unbeknownst to him, he attempted the very same plan Hermione had in the next shed-house beside his own. He wouldn’t have known that it would still be too far up for him to reach. If only he’d had his wand. For hours, he tried a number of stacking choices, plus jumping as high as he could from the tallest point. The window was still several feet too high every time.

When the light filtering into the room indicated that Harry had been working well into the afternoon, he finally decided to take a break and clear his head. He had noticed the small washroom that was tucked into a corner of the room and dragged his feet towards it. As he undressed for a shower, he realized how badly he actually needed to use the loo. When he finished, he turned on the tap and stepped into the stall. Harry hadn’t experienced hot water in months and groaned as the tension in his muscles eased.

For several minutes, he didn’t even try to scrub the filth off of himself, simply watching the grime rinse off into the drain. There was blood too, trickling from the bite mark by his neck, but he tried not to think too much about that, in denial about what it meant for this new ‘connection’ to Greyback. Harry did eventually grab a flannel that had been set aside on a hook, with soap nearby, and rubbed away the soreness in his neck and shoulders. When he reached his backside, he gingerly dabbed at his abused entrance. The cloth came away with some blood, as he expected.

He’d never touched himself back there before, or considered letting another man do it. Now he’d been thrust into a situation where a werewolf planned on repeating the act as many times as he was able. Even if this wasn’t a war, and if Greyback was just any other guy, Harry wasn’t even sure if he liked men that way. He hadn’t had much opportunity to think about it, what with trying to stay alive with a mad man intent on killing him and all.

Come to think of it, wasn’t Greyback a Death Eater? Why hadn’t he brought Harry to Voldemort right away? Surely the evil wizard would have demanded to kill Harry himself. Whatever the werewolf’s reasoning for keeping Harry away, the young wizard couldn’t find it in himself to be grateful. He wished this damn war would be over already so he could just move on and live his life…assuming he lived.

Gently rinsing off the remainder of Greyback’s spendings, Harry finished his shower, wrapped a nearby towel around his waist and returned to the main room. Another look around the room confirmed that nothing had changed to allow for his escape.

As he sat back on the bed, still wrapped in only the towel, Harry realized it had gotten quite warm in the room since morning. Small beads of sweat trickled down his back, making him shiver at the sensation. Out of ideas, however, the young wizard laid back against the soft sheets and rested his head on the fluffy pillow at the head of the bed. It did little calm to him though, as he steadily felt his heart rate grow faster by the minute, bringing a flush to his chest.

He wasn’t sure what the strange sensations were, so he tried to roll over and fall asleep.

~~~~0000~~~~

After Fenrir had left his young mate, he began to make his way to the gate to the territory.

“Alpha! When did you get back?” A young, blonde she-wolf jogged over to greet him.

“Tara,” he acknowledged. “I got back early this morning. Didn’t wana wake anyone.” She nodded and smiled in understanding.

“Well, we should have a party tonight then, to celebrate your return. How long will you be back for?” She asked while keeping pace with the Alpha on his short journey.

“I’m going back out today on an errand. But I don’t think it should take too long.”

“Great! I’ll let Maggie know to prep for a feast then.” The young woman beamed at her fellow werewolf and waved as they reached his destination and they parted ways. Ian was at the gate again and hastily let his Alpha through.

Greyback needed to report to the Dark Lord and tell him of their side’s grand victory. No doubt Voldemort would immediately plan to overtake Great Britain completely once he discovered the fates of his only remaining enemy and his trusty sidekick. Unfortunately, anytime he wanted to apparate from his territory, he had to make the same slow trek he had made the previous night. It was annoying, but he reached it a bit faster than he had before with the added daylight.

He disapparated with a crack that echoed throughout the thick forestation and reappeared in front of Malfoy Manor. The foreboding mansion reeked of dark magic, but Fenrir paid it no mind as he strode up to the front door and slammed his fists against it until a scrawny looking house-elf opened it. He let himself in and made a beeline for the drawing room, where his master usually received company.

“Announce me, elf,” he growled to the whimpering creature that had scurried behind him to follow and obey. It disappeared through the cracked opening the door into the drawing room left and Fenrir could hear the Dark Lord call for him to enter.

“My Lord,” he said, bowing low and kissing the wizard’s robe hem. The action disgusted him, but he planned on surviving this war and sometimes you had to do things you didn’t like in order to stay alive.

“Rise, Greyback.” Fenrir did as he was commanded. “I hope you have a good reason for interrupting me today.”

“Apologies, my Lord, but I think you’ll be very pleased indeed. I’ve caught the Potter boy, and his mudblood friend.” The mad wizard’s eyes nearly bugled from his sockets at the news, before he collected himself and rearranged his features into a perfect calm.

“Is that so? And when might this have happened?”

“Early this morning, my Lord. I brought them immediately to my territory after capturing them in Godric’s Hollow.”

“And why did you not inform me of this immediately, Greyback?”

“As positive of a development this may be, I thought my Lord would appreciate if I waited for daylight hours to break the news.” He was treated only to a soft grunt in reply.

“Fine, then. You’ve done very well, Greyback. I assume you wish to keep them both? What are your plans for the Undesirables?” Fenrir didn’t think it was any of the wizard’s business what he planned for his new mates, but he found himself forced to answer, or else possibly lose them.

“There are not many breeding wolves in my pack. They will make good bitches for me and carry my young.” The Dark Lord nodded in approval. It seemed suitable punishment for his boy-nemesis to humiliate and degrade him by forcing him to carry the offspring of a monster for the rest of his life. It also helped that more werewolves meant more soldiers for his army, not that Fenrir planned on ever letting any pups of his join the Death Eater Ranks. He kept this information to himself though as the Dark wizard waved him off in dismissal to begin his plans for conquering Hogwarts.

The entire visit took less than an hour and, the Alpha quickly found himself back in his own territory, surrounded by his packmates.

“Alpha! Welcome home!” The majority of his pack shouted upon his arrival at the communal area, which consisted of a small field with a crackling fire in the middle. He made his way around the makeshift seats scattered around the space, shaking hands and sharing hugs with the other wolves.

Tara hadn’t been exaggerating when she said to be prepared for a feast. Maggie, the werewolf in charge of meals, had clearly spared no expense on the variety of meats, stews, and side dishes spread about the serving area. Some pack mates pulled out instruments and began to play for the growing crowd that began to dance and be merry.

Fenrir watched them all as the sun travelled across the sky and eventually began to set. When the breeze began to grow colder, the Alpha remembered that his young mates hadn’t eaten for quite some time. Discreetly packing some food onto two plates, the werewolf snuck away from the festivities to make sure the witch and wizard were as comfortable as they were going to get.

 

~~~~0000~~~~

Hermione didn’t touch the food Greyback left for her that morning. Surely it was poisoned. And even if it wasn’t, she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her in his debt. So she left the plate he had left on the table in the middle of the room, choosing to ignore the growing hunger in her belly.

Instead, she continued to search the small house that imprisoned her for any other sign of escape. At one point during the day, she even considered carving notches into the walls to climb to the window, but could find nothing sharp enough to make a dent in the thick wood panels. Her fingernail-beds started to bleed after only a few minutes of scratching at them and there had been no progress, so Hermione opted for a different solution.

By the time the sun had begun to set, Hermione had still made no progress in escaping and the lack of food wore her down even further. As she sat on the still stripped mattress, her gaze drifted to the small washroom, with its tiny shower stall. Of course, she had already been in the room earlier in the day, but she had yet to bathe. Deciding that her efforts might be better rewarded with a moment of relaxation and cleanliness, the young witch stripped and turned on the tap.

A sigh escaped her as the water poured down. It was mercifully hot and seemed to wash away all of her troubles as she stood under the spray. She found the flannel hanging on a hook nearby and the soap in a small dish attached to the wall and began washing herself properly. The witch had to take special care as she washed between the thighs, still sore from its earlier intrusion. She found no blood fortunately, or it had been washed away before she could spot it.

The rest of her body was littered with bruises and cuts from her months on the run with the Boy-Who-Lived. Thankfully none had been infected, since she had been diligent in treating the serious injuries with dittany. She wished she had some then, and that it would work on her wounded pride.

So absorbed was Hermione, that she didn’t hear the door to the house open and click closed. Nor did she hear the low irritated growl as Fenrir saw the food he left her still on the table, untouched. She was so involved in her washing that she didn’t even sense as another body joined her in the washroom, his shadow lingering over her as he watched through the transparent glass shower door. Her training and instincts had failed her, and she only realized it once the werewolf slid the door open and quickly pinned her soaked body to the wall.

‘He’s naked’ was the surprised first thought that flitted through Hermione’s mind once she found herself pinned to the tiles. ‘Constant Vigilance’ was the second. She had been careless, despite being in enemy territory and knowing that he would return. As soon as her mind caught up with her and she realized what was about to happen, her arms attempted to push against the wall, struggling to gain leverage against the monster behind her. This only seemed to work in his favor though, as he gripped her hips with both hands and turned her around so he could see the terror on her face.

“Hello, Sweeting. Miss me?” He growled into the right side of her neck. “I can see you’re already so…wet.”

“Get away from me!” She shrieked, still pushing away from him in the small confines of the shower. Her efforts only managed to present the werewolf with better access to her breasts, which he took advantage of, nipping one and eliciting a squeak from its owner. Pulling one hand back, she swiftly smacked the larger man across the face with all the strength she could muster. It didn’t have any effect, except to contort his features from amused, to furious.

“Learn your place, bitch!” One large hand had wrapped around Hermione’s throat and slammed her into the wall, hard, strangling the girl. As she fought to breathe, Greyback glared at her, calming somewhat. “You should be _grateful_ for this.”

“Grateful?” She managed to croak. “Grateful for my rapist?” He gripped her throat harder still.

“Grateful that I haven’t sent you to the Dark Lord. He’d have killed you. Grateful you’re alive and that an Alpha chose to mate you.”

“I’d rather be dead.” The witch didn’t know how she managed to speak at that point, since her vision was slowly going dark with the lack of oxygen to her brain.

“Not for long.”

Abruptly, Fenrir released her neck. She would have fallen to the ceramic floor of the tub if he hadn’t caught her on the way down. This was no act of mercy though; there was no mercy here. Instead of laying her down gently, or walking her to the bed, the werewolf lifted the girl’s body high enough that he could pin it between his own and the wall once more. From there, he swiftly entered her for the second time that day.

The pain was less and Hermione was barely conscious, but she was aware that she was being raped once again. There was no strength left in her body to fight, so the only thing left for her to do was cry. She sobbed into his shoulder with her arms dangling uselessly at her sides, as he had his way with her. She couldn’t even find the energy to bite him or scratch. After a few thrusts, she passed out, her head lolling to the side, leaving her claiming mark visible to him. Fenrir smirked at this stroke of good fortune and bent his head down to lick and bite at it.

Even though the witch had fallen unconscious, her body reacted to the claiming mark’s attention. Her nipples hardened under the spray of the now-cold water and her channel dampened with its own natural arousal. Fenrir preferred this: a willing mate; one that reacted positively to his touch. It made things so much easier. His pace hastened as he felt her climax build and her walls begin to tighten around his cock. A few pumps more and her hips were grinding into his own against her own volition. He continued grinding into her and nibbling at her mark, gripping her ass with both large hands to help push himself deeper into her. He came with a vicious growl against her mark, bringing on her own orgasm, during which his mate whimpered and her eyelids fluttered as she nearly awakened.

Once Fenrir was completely spent, he felt his knees almost give out, so he lowered them both to the floor, still buried deep inside her to keep him come from leaking just yet. He panted, exhausted, and when he was finally ready, he laid her down in the tub, reached out to turn the water off and pulled out. The motion made a satisfying wet sound as he withdrew from her folds. For a moment, he watched as his spendings dripped from her body, leaking down towards her back hole. The hand still on her bum gently squeezed and stroked the bruised skin before he rose and left her there to wake on her own. She should be grateful he hadn’t dropped her to the floor to crack her head open. He needed her alive if she was to bear his offspring and fracturing her skull didn’t play into that very well.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 

The boy was asleep when Fenrir opened the door to the second shed-house and he was too exhausted from his activities with the witch not ten minutes ago to attempt to wake him. Instead, he simply left the food he brought on the table and left for his own home. The young wizard should be grateful for the bit of respite Fenrir granted him that night.

 

The following morning, however was a different story.

 

~~~~0000~~~~

 

Harry was in and out of consciousness all night. The brief moment he heard his door open and Greyback walk in, he did his best to stay perfectly still, hoping the large man would leave him to sleep. The odd tingling that increased in his gut made that difficult though. He must have fallen asleep properly at some point however, because the next thing he knew, Harry was waking up to the early morning sun shining through his window. Something was off though. He was lying on a soft mattress and he was warm and comfortable. But…why was he wet?

 

Horrible memories of being punished during his childhood at Privet Drive flashed through his mind as he threw back his covers to see if he had wet the bed in his sleep. Fidgeting with the glasses that he hadn’t removed since yesterday, his shame grew as he discovered that the sheets were in fact soaked. But…the smell wasn’t right, and he still needed to use the loo.

 

He jumped out of the bed, accidentally dropping the towel from his waist, and made for the washroom to relieve himself. When he finished, he realized that there was a strange wet sensation trickling between his thighs. It actually felt like something sticky steadily dripping down the skin coming from his backside. As Harry was about to return to the bed, he stopped and brought a hand to his rear end, his fingers feeling for the source of the fluid. His eyebrows scrunched together as he trailed the leakage up his thigh, between the crack of his asscheeks and…

 

He gasped as the sensation of his finger on his anus made his eyes roll back and his knees buckle; before he knew it, Harry was lying face down on the hardwood floor of the room, moaning. True, he had never thought to touch himself back there before, but as he stroked the wrinkled skin of his hole, he struggled to figure out why. The added slickness that seemed to practically be gushing out of the entrance only heightened the bliss his finger was giving him.

 

To gain more of whatever it was that was happening, Harry dragged his knees up to his chest beneath him, perking his bum in the air as he dipped a finger inside himself, groaning at the intrusion. His prick had already become painfully hard as a result, so he brought his other hand to the member and began furiously pumping it.

 

It was at this point that the front door unlocked and Fenrir Greyback found Harry Potter in the throes of passion, humping the floor and fucking himself on his finger.

 

“Well, well, well. What do we have here…” the werewolf mused as he watched the desperate display before him, leaning against the wall to take in the performance. The young wizard tossed his head from side to side as his ass raised higher in the air, searching for more more more. His legs spread wider as his hand moved faster over his throbbing cock. The werewolf could hear the boy whimper and whine as he discovered this new way of pleasuring himself, seemingly unaware of his audience.

 

“Do you want some help with that, pet?” He asked, placing the tray of food he had brought on the table. His mate’s eyes were glazed over in ecstasy as they locked with his own. He could only whimper as he added a second finger to his back entrance, and cry out at the added pressure to his prostate. He attempted to raise his bum higher, inviting anyone or anything that could send him over the edge he was climbing to. Greyback accepted that invitation.

 

Having no shirt on to begin with, Fenrir pulled off his jeans and knelt behind the writhing body. Harry hadn’t stopped his masturbation, so the werewolf had to swat the boy’s hands away from his pucker, quickly replacing it with his own cock. The wizard keened below him, the now unoccupied hand waving behind him before it gripped Fenrir’s thigh tightly. Seeing this, the larger man also forced the boy to let go of his prick to replace it with his own hand. This one also found a new home gripping Fenrir’s other thigh.

 

The pair rutted together with Harry’s chest rhythmically beating against the floor, his rear as high in the air as he could manage to engulf as much of Fenrir’s cock as possible. The rubbing sensation of the floor against his nipples somehow managed to bring on a whole new level to the experience for Harry and he could only grip the werewolf’s thighs harder in an attempt to pull him closer.

 

Fenrir, meanwhile, was having the time of his life. His mate craved him, just as he said he would. Of course, it might have something to do with that lust potion that had been stewing in the boy over the past day, but the werewolf was sure they would eventually no longer need that.

 

“Fuck! Yes!” He cried out as the boy wizard’s chute began to constrict. “You’re a fine bitch, taking my cock like a good boy.” Harry began to scream his pleasure, unable to find any other outlet that he hadn’t already pursued. Just as his mate’s channel was about to tighten in climax though, Fenrir squeezed the base of the boy’s cock, staving off the imminent orgasm. This earned a cry of negation from the body beneath him.

 

“Now, now. Don’t be that way,” Greyback crooned into Harry’s ear before beginning to lick at the mating mark nearby. The wizard moaned under the touch, continuing to grind his ass back onto the thick prick inside him. “You’re gonna love this, pet.”

 

Fenrir bit down on the mating mark hard, but not enough to break the skin again, and picked up the pace of his fucking. He pounded into the body beneath him harder than the previous two times he had taken him and smeared the boy’s precome over his prick as he pumped it faster.

 

“Yes! Yes! P-please!” Harry screamed as the onslaught of sensations threatened to overtake him and his vision began to go white.

 

“That’s it, pet. Beg me,” Fenrir growled. “Beg your Alpha to fuck you good.”

 

“Please! Please!” It seemed to be the only word Harry could remember as his prostate was assaulted, causing fireworks to go off behind his closed eyelids. With another impassioned scream, the Boy-Who-Lived came across the werewolf’s hand and the hardwood floor. Fenrir’s own orgasm hit him like a thousand jolts of electricity, sending thick streams of come into the wizard’s body, painting his insides with semen.

 

As with the last time Fenrir took the boy, the pair collapsed for a few moments afterwards, as their highs ebbed. This time though, Harry’s senses seemed slower to resurface. The boy still lay panting by the time Fenrir had gained enough strength to lean on his elbows above him. His cock had softened, but was still inside the wizard’s tight channel, where it was warm and comfortable. He slowly rutted once, to test if the potion was still active in the boy’s system. The soft whimper was enough proof that it was. He did it again, purely for amusement this time, and was rewarded with the Savior’s thighs pushing up slightly, to bring his ass up higher once again. There didn’t seem to be enough strength in the boy though, because his hips quickly dropped once more in exhaustion.

 

With no resistance, the werewolf stayed put, as the young wizard drifted off to sleep with the comfortable weight of his mate on top of him. Fenrir only removed himself from the now-loose backside of the Savior when his stomach grumbled and he realized he had missed lunch. Reluctantly, he left his companion, only tossing a blanket over him, and exited the structure.

 

~~~~0000~~~~

 

“Liam, how have things been while I was away?” Fenrir asked once he managed to track down his Beta, who had been on his way out for a hunt.

 

“Alpha!” The towering werewolf beamed brightly, gripping his superior in a firm, manly hug. “It’s so good to see you! Did you enjoy the party yesterday? I couldn’t find you.”

 

“I had some things to take care of,” Greyback brushed off the question.

 

“Your new wolves?” Liam winced when his Alpha frowned, and he realized he had spoken about something he wasn’t supposed to know about yet. “I just…heard you brought a pair in the other night. When can we meet them?” Greyback frowned further, but chose to let the misstep go. Liam was a good wolf and an even better Beta. He meant nothing by the comment.

 

“Not yet,” he said. “They’re not ready. It might be some time.” The Beta nodded with complete trust in his Alpha.

 

“Right, so, the Loch Lomond pack paid us another visit while you were gone,” Liam said, remembering he has been asked a question. Fenrir cast the other man a barely restrained glare.

 

“And? You put them in their place, right?”

 

“Of course, Alpha. But Abe and Claire had to go to medical.”

 

Fenrir, closed his eyes to calm himself from the urge to rush to the other werewolf pack and rip the head off their Alpha. For years now, the smaller pack had been attempting to recruit other werewolves in a campaign to gain control over all of Great Britain. So far though, all they had accomplished was injuring members of other packs and angering Fenrir. The only reason he hadn’t wiped them out was the understanding that the other pack had no morals and, if Fenrir should fail, the other pack would likely kill the youngest and most vulnerable members of his own pack. Greyback needed more wolves, stronger wolves. Hopefully, his new mates were already along their way in giving him just that.

 

“I’ll check in on them,” Fenrir grunted. “Go get something good for dinner, yeah?” Liam smiled, nodded, and waved as the two went their own separate ways.

 

The medical cabin was at the far side of the clearing, leading Fenrir through a throng of pack mates who were busy going about their day. Several stopped him to ask how he had been since they saw him last, over a month ago, while others simply waved from afar. The latter wolves’ behavior was preferred. He really didn’t want to be bothered with so much on his mind. Still, he was polite to those who tried to speak with him, keeping in mind that they had only good intentions and respect for their Alpha.

 

“Hello Claire,” he said once the curtain to the she-wolf’s medical bed was pulled back. The brunette appeared in good spirits, despite her badly bruised shoulder and face.

 

“Glad to see you back, Alpha!” The brunette smiled cheerily, grimacing slightly when the action irritated her injuries. “Was your mission a success?”

 

“Yes, I’m pleased with the outcome,” he responded, making sure not to give any details about what his mission actually was. He had every faith that his pack wouldn’t think any less of him if they found out that he had kidnapped two young people and kept them against their will (for now), but to bring up the topic might only spur more questions that he didn’t feel like answering. No, it would be much easier to introduce his new mates to the rest of the pack once they had been properly broken in.

 

“You look like you could do with a few good meals though,” she joked.

 

“Yes, Maggie’s already been taking care of that. How’re you feeling?”

 

“Not too terrible. You should see the other guy.”

 

“I imagine he’s probably dead.”

 

“You imagine correctly,” Claire smirked. Of course her Alpha would know she could handle herself in a fight. He trained them all well very after all.

 

“Glad to hear it. I really should be going. I just came to check in on you.”

 

“Of course, Alpha. I’m honored you took the time.”

 

“Be seeing you around, Claire. You’ll be out and about in no time.” The two exchanged small smiles in farewell before the larger wolf drew back the curtain and made his way to Abe’s bed. Greyback’s visit with the second wolf went much the same as the first. The two had similar injuries and both were incredibly happy to have been honored by their Alpha’s consideration.

 

By the time he had finished and snatched up some lunch, the pack leader began searching for his Beta once more, since the hunting party had already returned. Being Alpha didn’t mean Fenrir could just sit around and bark orders at those below him; it took real work. Fortunately, he took great pride in his responsibilities and made sure to get himself caught up on all the goings on while he was away. In addition to the trouble with the other aggressive pack, Liam informed his Alpha that the winter had been harsh on the territory’s crops and several of the pack members have had to get part time jobs in the nearby towns in order to make money to purchase food that couldn’t be grown. This option was always frowned upon, but when food couldn’t grow, there wasn’t much choice. This was only made harder due to the stigma against werewolves. Fortunately, the creatures were considered a myth among muggles, so most of the work was acquired in the non-magical world, usually by the females of the pack, who were viewed as less threatening to the public.

 

After walking over to take a look at the crops that had grown however, Fenrir determined that they would make it through the rest of the winter just fine, as long as they rationed a little. Liam then brought them to the library cabin, which was really just one of the shed-houses filled with bookshelves. There, the pair of werewolves sat at the small table inside and went over the paperwork necessary for keeping everyone in the territory alive and well. There was a general census of every member of the pack, what cabin they lived in, and whether or not they had a mate. Most couples were both werewolves, either having come together after being bitten, or accidentally biting their paramour afterwards. These latter, unfortunate incidents had led to the decline in natural-born members of the pack over the past several years and was the reason why only one mated pair remained able to conceive offspring.

 

“How are Auguste and Becca, by the way?” Fenrir asked his Beta.

 

“Fantastic! Becca just has another month to go before her newest litter arrives," Liam said with a bright smile. As the only breeding female of the pack, Becca only had a litter or two a year. Greyback comforted himself in the knowledge that at least werewolf pregnancies lasted only six months, rather than the human nine, and usually bore more than one pup. The blonde werewolf-mate was about to get some company however, if Fenrir had anything to say about it.

 

"How's Auguste handling the responsibilities?"

 

"Oh, the same. After the last five, I'm pretty sure he's got his system perfected. What's that saying? 'It takes a village.'"

 

The next few hours found the leaders of the pack finding resolutions to some of problems that had cropped up in the month the Alpha had been away. Before long though, Maggie stopped by to drag them out for dinner. Fenrir couldn't be angry with the she-wolf who had taken care of him for as long as he could remember. She must've been working since lunch over a hot fire, if her frizzy red curls were anything to go by. Best not let her hard work go to waste.

 

"Has anyone brought your new wolves anything to eat lately?" Liam asked the larger wolf when they arrived at the food hall. Greyback frowned, remembering that he hadn't brought his female mate a meal since the previous night. Shaking his head, he served himself and fixed a second plate to bring her. He would come back to feed the boy.

 

~~~~0000~~~~

 

When Hermione woke, she had to take a minute to remember why she was naked, cold, wet, and in the shower. The water wasn't running, but she couldn't remember turning it off. Then it hit her. She had been raped again. That monster assaulted her and she hadn't been prepared. She was too distracted by the heavenly hot water she hadn't experienced in months.

 

Slowly, she stood, trying to ignore the achiness from sleeping on a ceramic floor. She could still feel the semen on her, dried up as it was, so she ran the water again just long enough to rinse it off. From there, she grabbed the nearby towel and returned to her bed.

 

There was really no point to leaving the mattress without its sheets if she was going to be trapped there for the foreseeable future, so the witch returned the linens to their rightful place and lay down. Her joints popped and cracked and it felt so good that she didn't even pay any mind that her hair was still wet and dampening the pillow.

 

Her stomach gurgled.

 

She had avoided eating anything her captor brought her, but Hermione couldn't deny that she was starving. Rationing food to almost nothing while on the run had left her skin and bones, and the scent of the food on the table was beyond tempting. But no...she couldn't, wouldn't eat it.

 

But she was so hungry...

 

How long could the human body last without food? A few weeks, she thought she had read somewhere. But what about water? Less time. There was pumpkin juice on the table too. Maybe if she just drank a sip, Greyback wouldn't notice and he'd believe she was still resisting.

 

Yes, that sounded like a good enough plan. But not just yet; in the morning. The brunette deduced that she had only been asleep in the shower for an hour or two, so she would have a sip of juice for breakfast.

 

Hopefully it wasn't poisoned.

 

~~~~0000~~~~

 

The morning was too cheery for Hermione's taste. The birds were singing and the sun was shining brightly through her solitary window. Her still-damp hair clung to her neck and face as she rolled over in bed to gain her bearings. Her towel had dislodged itself from the loose knot she had put it in last night, but the blanket still covered her enough to keep the cold off.

 

She was still hungry, so she glanced over to the table, still standing in the center of the room. Greyback must've put a stasis charm on the meal, as it was still steaming, even after at least 12 hours of sitting out. Wrapping the thin sheet around her shoulders, Hermione shuffled over and picked up the small cup of pumpkin juice. She inspected it, sniffed it, and let a drop splash onto the table to see if it sizzled or did anything else suspicious. It didn't. It appeared to be just an average cup of pumpkin juice.

 

She took a sip.

 

Oh dear gods it was so good.

 

She took another sip.

 

Nothing strange happened. She felt the same and her throat wasn't melting out of her neck or anything else she'd seen in movies while home for the summers.

 

She was pretty sure she could get away with one more sip without drawing attention to the lessened quantity, so she did and put the cup down. It was hard, but she did it and quickly went back to the bed to sit, so she wouldn't be as tempted to take another.

 

What to do today? The young witch was quite certain that she had searched for any possible chance of escape and found none. Furthermore, she didn't feel like continuing walking around in only a sheet when a randy werewolf would be coming to rape her every day. Wandering into the washroom, Hermione found the small bundle of clothes she had taken off prior to her shower and placed them in the sink. They were filthy. She drew some water and began scrubbing. She might need another shower after this.

 

Much of the grime seemed to have soaked into the fabric of Hermione’s clothes, so she was forced to let them all soak in the sink, after scrubbing for over an hour and a half. The strenuous work had caused a slight sweat to break out along her neck, chest and face. She was surprised at this and how worn out she had gotten, given that the magically kept fire was quite low and she had dealt with far more rigorous activity while on the run with Harry.

 

Harry…

 

She missed him. But Greyback had said he had him too. Where could he be? Was he being tortured? Had he been killed already? Had Greyback been lying when he said she would see him again? Or was he sitting in a similar prison as her own? Was he in a comfortable bed too?

 

Her own bed was certainly comfortable; the sheets were soft and silky. In fact, the sliding of the fabric against her skin as she lay down felt very nice, almost soothing. She rubbed her hands over the sheet still wrapped around her and sighed at the pleasantness. The same heat she had felt after cleaning her clothes had begun to grow, causing her nipples to harden unexpectedly. Once Hermione realized this though, her hands halted and she sat back up from the bed. She would not lose her focus.

 

She tried to open the door again.

 

It didn’t work.

 

She sat down on the solitary chair in the room and tried to formulate another plan, hopefully one that wasn’t as hopeless as her last one. What did she have at her disposal? A bed, linens, a chair, a table…and fire.

 

An idea struck. Maybe Greyback could meet a hot surprise when he next came to assault her! Looking around the room for a method of executing her plan, Hermione stood and realized the style of chair she had been sitting on could be helpful. The wood was flimsy enough that she might be able to break it. Grabbing the back portion, the witch raised the furniture above her head and slammed it against the wall. It didn’t work right away, but she was optimistic. A few more throws and two of the legs were noticeably looser. Another fifteen minutes of heavy lifting and she had finally managed to get one of the legs to break off completely. Confident that she could use another stake as a secondary weapon, she threw the chair some more and almost laughed at her success. Finally something was going right!

 

Now it was just a matter of waiting for her victim. Determined not to be taken by surprise this time, the brightest witch of her age took a seat on the stones that lined the fireplace, prepared to light her torch when the door began to open.

 

She had to wait several hours and, while she didn’t fall asleep in that time, she did get incredibly bored. By the time she finally heard the tell-tale rustle of an unlocking charm at the door, adrenaline rushed through her and she thrust the chair leg into the flames. It was a bit slow to catch, but it lit before the door completely opened. Taking advantage of the element of surprise, Hermione ran to the door and thrust forward with her makeshift spear before swinging at Greyback with her torch. He was clearly surprised and dropped the plate of food he had been holding, but she must have been too slow for his werewolf reflexes, since he simply grabbed at the unlit weapon, removing it from her person, and swatted the flaming one away. It fizzled out in the damp grass near the door and, in her moment of shock, Hermione froze.

 

Slack-jawed, she turned to face her furious captor. Her glared at her, face crimson with rage. He shoved her from the doorway and back into the house, practically knocking her to the floor. Still lost in her confusion, Hermione could only stumble along with him.

 

“Why don’t you get it through your head, bitch? You’re mine! And you’re  _lucky_  to be here!” He roared at her and backhanded her across the face, properly sending her to the floor this time. “You should be on your knees,  _thanking_  me!”

 

“I’m not your bitch!” She screamed at him finally. “And I’ll never thank you for _imprisoning_ me!”

 

“Not my bitch, eh?” His face was still clearly enraged, but a new wicked gleam took up residence in his eyes. As she crawled backwards, to get away from him, Greyback stormed forward and grabbed her by her upper arm and dragged her to the bed. She was sure of what would happen next, so she struggled to fight her way out of his grip. She was unsuccessful.

 

She quickly found herself thrown over his knee, as he sat on the bed. Confused, she look over her shoulder, just as he bunched up the sheet still covering her so that it rested on the small of her back and pressed his wand to the base of her spine.

 

“ _Cauda Lupum_!”

 

She screamed and the unimaginable pain that she was sure rivaled the Cruciatus. Although admittedly, she couldn’t be sure since she’d never experienced that. Still, she writhed as she desperately struggled to get away from the source of the agony. It seemed to be traveling from where his wand rested all the way up her spine and back down again, repeatedly. The invisible flames licked at her back, burning their way through her skin, muscle and bones, before finally focusing on the base of her spine again. After what felt like hours, but was likely only a few seconds, the pain ended, as if it had never existed. Hermione was choking on sobs as Greyback sat back, one hand stroking her behind while the other stroked something....else. Her mind was too clouded in relief of being free of the pain that she couldn't comprehend what it was of hers that he was touching. Her relief was short lived however, as he tossed Hermione back to the floor so that she was sprawled on her hands and knees. 

 

"Maybe this'll teach you your place, little bitch," she heard the monster whisper in her ear as he roughly wrapped an arm around her to keep her from completely falling to the floor. His other hand trailed up the fabric still tied around her chest and unleashed the knot keeping it together. From there, he softly kneaded a breast in his palm. 

 

Despite only just recovering from the searing sensations of whatever curse he had placed on her, Hermione could already feel his actions eliciting a reaction in her. But that didn't make sense. Was it part of the spell? Greyback dragged his hand down her stomach, bringing the sheet with him, so he could lick up the curve of her back. She shivered under his touch and gasped as the light trail of saliva left a pleasant coolness along her skin. It was a wonderful offset to the heat that had been building in her over the course of the day. 

 

But this was Fenrir Greyback touching her. Remembering this, her heart rate picked up again in panic and she shifted to escape his embrace. He wouldn't allow it, gripping her middle harder and softly biting down on his claiming mark. She gasped at the pleasure that suddenly overrode her senses and felt her nipples suddenly harden into firm peaks in his hand. There was also an immediate reaction between her thighs. A pleasant wetness trickled from her lower lips, starting to wind a coil in her gut. 

 

"Give in, mate," she heard Greyback whisper to her again. Her gut tingled at his words, urging her to do as he bid.

 

Hermione's previous pain was completely forgotten now, as the werewolf behind her cupped her mound and used a finger to stroke that heavenly spot that made stars sparkle in her eyes. She moaned her pleasure and quite nearly forgot her own name in the bliss of the large creature stroking her now sopping folds. She ground back into his hand, searching for more sensations. He licked her claiming mark again, growling his pleasure.

 

"Have you learned your place now?" Hermione could only groan as she shuffled backwards, trying to entice him to give her more. Unzipping his trousers, Fenrir slid his thick member along her folds, slickening himself up before he slowly pressed into her. The witch made a noise somewhere between a groan and a growl, which only made the werewolf's cock harder inside her. He thrusted slowly at first, taking pleasure in his mate's loss of composure. Soon though, his movements became more frantic and the young woman beneath him began to yelp in the bursts of pleasure he gave with each brush against that sensitive spot inside her. When he felt his climax approaching, he stroked her clit again and snarled against her claiming mark. The sounds she made were delectable and the werewolf couldn't wait until she was fully broken in to take her to his own bed and fill her there.

 

Gripping her upper body tighter, he picked her up so she was on her knees only, with her back pressed against his as they rutted together while upright. Her walls fluttered around his throbbing cock, and he pinched one of her nipples as he firmly bit down on her mark again. She came violently, scrambling for purchase and clawing at his arms and thighs and any other body part she could grasp. She screamed her release beautifully and Fenrir revelled in the quickened pulse he could feel on his lips.

 

When she had finished, her body went limp and Greyback was quite sure she had passed out in his arms. It didn't matter.

 

He took a minute to catch his breath before he did the poor creature the courtesy of carrying her to the bed and dropping her there. She should be glad he didn't leave her in the shower like last time.

 

When Hermione woke a few hours later, she was alone. She was also incredibly sore. There were new bruises all over her body and she could still feel the stickiness of the werewolf's semen between her thighs. Eager to rid herself of the sensation, she quickly rose, not caring anymore about her nakedness, and made her way to the washroom. 

 

As she walked, and subsequently cleaned herself, Hermione couldn't help feeling like something was off. As she stood in front of the sink, she gazed in the foggy mirror but could see nothing out of the ordinary. No, it was her back that felt strange. Raising her arms to feel around her shoulders blades produced no results though. Just when she was about to dismiss the sensation, the young witch felt something soft brush along the back of her thigh. She swatted at it, sure it was just a stray hair that had fallen, but when she brought her hand down, there was substantially more than a single hair she came into contact with.

 

She gripped it, instantly feeling that same  _something_  Greyback has been stroking earlier. Panic seized her as she slowly dropped her gaze and realized what she was holding.

 

Fenrir Greyback had turned her into an actual bitch by giving her a wolf tail.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovelies!  
> I know it’s been FOREVER, but I’ve got a little Christmas present here for you!  
> As always, much love to my wonderful beta Kabg01.

Chapter 4

 

Harry woke in a dried puddle of his own semen, with the stickiness of Greyback still inside him. He was sore everywhere after spending what appeared to be most of the day on the floor. If he'd had his wand, the wizard would have easily cleaned the mess, but was instead forced to wash the floor with the flannel he had used to shower with. When Harry finished, his stomach grumbled in hunger. He looked to the new tray of food his captor brought him. It was tempting but after what happened the last time he ate anything Greyback brought him, he didn't trust it. Instead of eating, he did anything else. The Chosen One pulled his underwear and trousers back on, pulled the sheets off his bed and hung them over the chair as best he could so they would dry. He was still embarrassed that he had wet them, even if it wasn't with urine. After that, he wanted to find a way to stay alert, maybe by doing some exercises, but he knew he'd have to conserve energy if he wasn't going to eat.

Instead, the Chosen One sat on the bare mattress and attempted to plan an alternative escape. He was sure that if Hermione had been there, she would have found a way out. It was because Greyback made no mention of her though, and that there was no other sign of her, that Harry was beginning to fear the worst of his best friend. She was the brightest witch, or wizard, of their age. If she couldn’t find an escape, then there was no hope for him.

No. He couldn’t think that way. People were counting on him. The entire wizarding world in fact. He would have to find a way out on his own; no one else knew where he was. No rescue was coming for him. For a moment, the wizard mentally berated himself for not having some sort of communication with the Order. At least in that case, alarms might go off if no one heard from him after a few days.

His stomach grumbled again and his gaze automatically landed on the tray of food. He couldn’t eat it. He wouldn’t. It smelled so good to his starving senses though. Before he could change his mind, Harry picked up the plate and cup, and dumped them in the bathroom sink. It wasn’t as effective as a trash can or out a window, but it would hopefully be enough to resist it.

After standing and looking around for another few minutes, the Savior figured he might as well take another shower, it might help him come up with a plan. With a sigh, Harry stripped, turned on the tap and stepped into the compact space once again. While he was there, he searched for any cracks in the walls or ceiling. He didn’t find many, and those he did find must have been magically reinforced because he couldn’t so much as chip away at the tile.

Greyback didn't visit him that night and Harry wondered why, not that he missed the werewolf's presence. The fact only made him wonder if no news truly meant good news. It took the wizard far longer to fall asleep than he would have thought, given his near-starving state and anxiety, but eventually he did, although fitfully.

When he next woke, it was to a pair of large, rough hands shaking him. The sky was dark, if the skylight was any indication, so why was he being forced from sleep?

"Boy!" The voice growled. "Wake up."

Groggily, Harry fumbled for his glasses that he had laid next to his pillow and peered up to see the face of his captor. The rough handling had ceased, but the werewolf was suspiciously twitchy this morning. Was it morning?

"What _now_?" Fatigue clouded Harry's words, or else he might have chosen them more wisely.

"Take your clothes off."

"What? Why?" He asked, brushing off the strange tingling in his gut.

"The moon is calling. I need to mate," Greyback said in that same gruff, agitated mumble. Harry didn't move, suddenly wide awake and aware of what was being asked of him. Or demanded, really.

"No! Get away from me!" The Chosen One attempted to scramble off the bed, but Greyback was blocking his only escape. He tried ducking under an arm, but was grasped by the back of his neck with the other.

Faster than he could blink, Harry found himself being forced to look directly into the werewolf's eyes. He might've gulped audibly, the way he'd seen in Dudley's cartoons as a child, but he couldn't be sure. The only thing he _could_ be sure of was the pounding of blood rushing through his ears.

"I need to mate," was all Greyback said as he stared into Harry's bright green eyes.

"W-why?"

"The full moon is tonight. My wolf is close to the surface. Mate with me or you may not like the consequences."

If that was all true, Harry was surprised at how calmly Greyback was able to converse with him about it. Judging by the rude awakening he had gotten not five minutes ago, Harry was sure he was about to be taken very roughly. Now though, it almost seemed as if he was being given a choice in the matter. But he knew better.

"Leave me alone," he nearly whispered, his breath ghosting over Greyback’s face he was so close.

"Mate with me." The large man demanded again, and there it was. That increasingly familiar tug in Harry's gut, urging him to do whatever Greyback asked. If Harry didn't know any better, he might almost believe it was some sort of Imperius. But Greyback hadn't used a wand and hadn't used an actual incantation, nor did he hear a voice in his head.

"N-no." His resolve wasn't completely gone, but Harry did feel that eager clenching of his backside as he continued to stare at the silver haired wolf.

"Mate with me." Greyback said again, bring his face closer and more demanding this time.

Just as Harry was about to try and deny him again, his captor crushed their lips together, effectively breaking the wizard's walls. His cock began to harden and his anus leaked the same lubricant it had provided that last times Greyback took him. He moaned into the kiss as his mouth was assaulted and unconsciously laced his arms around the neck of his werewolf.

"Yes," Fenrir groaned into Harry's mouth. "Mate with me. I’ll make your belly nice and round."

Harry's head was beyond spinning with Fenrir's words. It was completely clouded and his only thought was mating with his Alpha and carrying the pups that were so desperately wanted. If anyone had tried to tell him in that moment that he had gone mad and getting pregnant was the last thing any seventeen-year-old should want, he might actually hex them. Screw whatever perceived consequences may come; Harry had found bliss in that moment, as Fenrir moved his tongue from his mate's mouth to his mating mark, effectively making the Savior cry out in ecstasy.

Harry ground his groin up against his mate's rippled stomach urgently, searching for the friction he needed. That they both needed. Removing one of his arms from around the werewolf's neck, he then worked the hand down the planes of Fenrir’s stomach until it met the button of his trousers. Unable to see what he was doing, Harry fumbled to undo it and slip his hand underneath. Thank Merlin Fenrir hadn’t been wearing underwear, or he’d have another obstacle to overcome. As it was, Harry had to squeeze his hand between the denim and Fenrir’s pelvis.

Sensing the young wizard’s difficulty, the werewolf unwrapped an arm from around him and shoved his jeans to his knees, before bringing the hand back up to grip the boy’s hair. Harry’s head was yanked backwards as Fenrir attacked his neck and mating mark and lowered them both backwards onto the bed once again.

When Fenrir’s cock sprang free, Harry’s hand easily slid over the organ, learning its shape. His mate’s excitement at having a willing partner was apparent, as Fenrir’s hips bucked in Harry’s fist. The wizard moaned as he attempted to shove his own trousers down his legs, but was impeded by the massive body on top of him. These too, Fenrir took in his own hand and worked down to the boy’s knees, along with the underwear he wore. The position of the clothes forced Harry’s legs to fold upwards, giving his mate prime access to his goal.

The werewolf almost gently moved the hand Harry had been using to jerk him off to his own prick, so he could position himself at the boy’s entrance. If it hadn’t been for the claiming magic, Fenrir’s abrupt thrust into the Chosen One’s hole would have been much more painful, but the lubricant and loosening of the chute gave Harry only a slight discomfort before giving way to pleasure. As Fenrir rapidly thrust into the smaller body, clutching Harry’s hips in a bruising grip, the wizard babbled.

“What’s that, Pet? You want more?” Fenrir lifted the boy’s bottom to gain better access from his own standing position and resumed pounding into it.

“Y-y-yes!” His mate screamed as his prostate was beaten into submission. Harry’s hands searched the air for purchase, specifically the body of his lover. Seeing this, his Alpha slid one hand up to his back and lifted him so he could plaster himself against the muscular body while upright.

Together the pair moved frantically, wet noises beginning to sound from the constant pumping of the werewolf’s cock in Harry’s hole. Without understanding his urges, Harry began licking and biting at the skin of Fenrir’s neck, just above his shirt, searching for release as he continued to pump his own prick with his hand. It was more difficult this way, being crushed between their bodies, but the sensation of his tip gliding against his Alpha’s abdomen heightened his pleasure.

“Tell me,” Fenrir grunted against Harry’s mark. “Tell me what you want.”

“M-m-m…” Was all he could reply. The hands gripping his bum were roughly kneading it then as they held him open wide for the thick organ sliding between them. Harry rutted harder against him.

“You want your Alpha to fuck you harder?” At Harry’s responding whimper, Fenrir turned so that he could pin the smaller body against the wall. Too-thin legs attempted to wrap around him and tighten, drawing him closer. “Use your words, Pet, or I might not let you come.”

“Y-y-yes! M-more!”

“More what? Who am I? Say it!” The Alpha smirked as he watched some small bit of clarity break through the cloud of lust in the boy’s eyes.

“…Greyback.” Although it was clear that the Chosen One had meant to spit the name with venom, his humiliation and confusing lust for the larger man countered the effect.  Almost as soon as his mind was clear enough to remember who exactly it was giving him so much pleasure, the fogginess returned and his eyes closed as he whimpered once more.

“No, Pet. I’m your Alpha, and you’ll address me as such from now on!” Fenrir grunted between violent thrusts into the wizard’s chute. Harry felt that same tug in his gut, almost like it was coming from his soul, but when he didn’t respond, Greyback very nearly got angry. “Say it! Call me your Alpha!”

“A-alpha!” Harry screamed into the small room as he came all over his hand and both their chests. Two more thrusts and he could feel Fenrir’s cock pulse with his own orgasm.

It was a strange sensation.  To feel so sexually satisfied and know that less than a second ago, you were incomparably happy, but also know that you should be terrified of the person who gave you that pleasure. Harry didn’t move. Why should he? Where would he go? How could he even try? Fenrir Greyback had him pinned against a wall, his feet weren’t even on the floor, and the door was warded so he couldn’t open it anyway. He should know, he’d tried. Instead, he attempted to calm his breathing and heartbeat.

“Good boy,” Greyback said, as he gently patted Harry’s backside and lowered him to the floor. He picked his wand up from the floor where he must have dropped it before he woke Harry, and cast a gentle cleaning charm on himself before pulling his jeans back up and buttoning them. He left Harry covered, and filled, with their spendings.

Harry didn’t move for a moment, opting to watch his captor slowly make his way to the table. He had brought food again and Harry realized then that his stomach felt unbearably empty. It made a loud gurgle, signaling to both men what it wanted.

“You need to eat, Pet.”

“Stop calling me that. I’m no one’s pet. I’m a wizard,” Harry insisted as he pulled his trousers back up and fastened them.

“Not anymore,” Greyback smirked from across the room and spoke as if teaching a child. “Ever since I claimed you, you’ve been my mate, and you will be forevermore. You belong to me now. Understand?”

“It’s not gonna happen. I’m going to escape you. The Order will find me,” he bluffed. Harry knew no one was coming for him and there was a slim chance of his escape without a wand. He was treading on dangerous ground though, as Fenrir had a notoriously short temper.

“Yes, it will,” the werewolf repeated. “You _will_ submit yourself as my mate, whether you like it or not!”

That damn tug. What was happening?

“Say it. You. Are. My. Mate.”

“I’m your mate.” Harry clamped his hand over his mouth after the words rushed out. Why would he say that? Was it some sort of mind control? Greyback hadn’t even said a spell!

“Good. Now, come over and eat your food.” Harry was still too confused by the peculiar situation to resist the fierce tugging that seemed to be growing stronger, especially when he tried to resist it, so before he knew it, he was seated in the chair, eating a hot meal. It was delicious, he couldn’t lie about that. It took him about twenty minutes to finish it all and Greyback watched him from across the table the entire time.

“What do you want?” Harry asked after he had licked his fork clean. “Why haven’t you killed me yet? Or turned me over to _him_?”

“How many times are we going to go over this?” Harry continued to silently stare him down. “I need a mate. You’re perfectly acceptable and, as long as you eat, you should be a good mother to my pups.”

“M-MOTHER?”

“Call it what you want, but you _will_ carry my offspring, Pet.”

“Stop calling me that!”

“What? ‘Pet’?” He smirked, knowing he was irritating the boy. “I think I’ll keep calling you that. In fact, that’ll be your name from now on.”

“My _name_ is Harry!”

“No.” The younger man was thoroughly confused. This werewolf, this _Death Eater_ , had no control over his name. Greyback took two large steps to join him at the other side of the table and gripped the boy’s chin in his fist.

Green eyes met blue and the Chosen One was suddenly far more terrified than he was even while he was being raped earlier.

“Your _name_ is ‘Pet’. It is the only name you will ever be known by from this day forward,” Fenrir spoke in almost a whisper, and the boy wizard felt that tug attempt to pull at… _something_ in his gut…and his soul. “You will no longer remember ever having been called by any name other than ‘Pet’.”

Harry’s terror grew as he quickly realized that he had forgotten what it was that he had just been yelling at Greyback for. His fear must have been obvious on his face, because after a moment of contemplation, the werewolf released his grip on the boy’s face and leaned against the table.

“Now, tell me. What's your name?”

Terror morphed to confusion. Why was Greyback asking for his name? He knew him. He’d been a follower of Voldemort long enough to probably have heard his name enough times to drive him insane. That was probably it. Greyback had gone insane.

Seeing no further harm in the humoring the beast, he told him.

“My name is Pet.”

~~~~0000~~~~

 

Fenrir grinned as he set up the wards to his mate's shelter. Things were going incredibly well. There had been almost no fight in the boy before his mating instincts took over. Some 'Chosen One'. He hadn't even needed to dose the boy with the lust potion, after remembering that he could just command the youth to want him.

The alpha didn’t think it would take too much longer for the bitch to be fully broken in, unlike the little witch. She had to be complacent if Fenrir was to be sure his pups would be safe before they were born, but she had been putting up too much of a fight when he fucked her. Plus, there was the incident when she had essentially tried to kill him. He couldn’t have that happening again.

He had an idea.

Before going to see his other mate, Fenrir walked over to the main clearing, to ensure that everything would be ready for the moon that night. The pack knew they were safe in their territory, and familiar smells surrounded them, easing any possible tensions that might arise while in their wolf forms. The main issue Fenrir wanted to check in on was that wards set up to protect the non-werewolf members of the pack: Becca and his own mates. Assuming all three were in a delicate condition, a bite from a werewolf would kill the lives growing inside them. And with Becca so far along, she probably wouldn’t survive either. There were several other wolves in the pack who had been wizards or witches before being bitten, so Fenrir searched for them to determine if the warding was strong enough to repel the werewolves from the cabins that night.

“Tobias, how’re things going here,” he greeted once he had found his packmate, a scruffy-looking man who appeared to be in his early fifties.

“Alpha! Hello. Did you need help with something?” The werewolf asked, turning away from the project he had been working on.

“I was wondering how the warding for the wolf-mates was coming along. We need to make sure there are no break-ins tonight, especially with Becca close to popping.”

“Oh, right. Well, her home is secure. Made all the usual arrangements. Should I tag on a few more? Are you expecting an unusually exciting change tonight?”

“No, not really. Did you only ward Becca’s house? Not the others?”

“Others?”

“No one told you of my new…situation?”

“No, Alpha. I’m afraid I haven’t heard. Have you taken a mate?” The other man questioned curiously.

“Yes. Two in fact. And they will be needing protection tonight. Both are likely already with child.”

“Congratulations!” Tobias beamed, his thin lips breaking into a wide, genuine smile. “It’s certainly about time you had someone warming your bed every night!”

“Thank you. So, I need you to reinforce the wards I’ve already placed on their residences. It might take some time, since I’ve only placed a few to keep them inside.”

“Of course, Alpha, of course. I’ll get right to it!” Fenrir nodded, as the other man quickly cleaned up the potions experiment. Both men left the bearded-wolf’s potions lab in companionable silence before parting ways. Fenrir pointed out the direction of his mates’ cabins, and then then left to find Liam.

When he did, the beta was speaking with a number of the pack’s prime fighters, with a serious expression. This couldn’t be good.

“Liam, what’re we talking about over here?” Fenrir asked as he approached the group, steeling his nerves for what was sure to be a tense discussion.

“Good morning, Alpha. Some of our scouts reported that there were several sightings of wolves known to run with Loch Lomond in the area. There were no attacks that we know of, but it can’t be a good sign.” Fenrir nodded in agreement. With the moon so close, the wolves were bound to get antsy. Having known aggressive wolves so close to the territory on the full moon could spell trouble for the pack. Although there were extensive, intricate wards surrounding the land, with enough determination, the other wolves might be able to weasel their way inside.

In the past, their battles had been fought just beyond the boundary, where the wards ended, but Fenrir had a suspicion that the other Alpha was working on a way inside. Maybe he was recruiting more pack members who had been witches or wizards. He hadn’t heard of any mysterious disappearances among the wizarding population, so if that was what was happening, the Alpha was being very discreet.

It was nearly noon when Liam finished relaying the information their scouts had collected and gone over the tactics they might employ to defend against the rival pack. The beta had been mulling over whether or not they should take the offensive to drive the other wolves away for good, but Fenrir wasn’t so sure at the moment. He had enough problems dealing with the requests of the Dark Lord. Perhaps when this damn war was over, hopefully within the next year, the Alpha could concentrate on fighting other packs. After the wizard wins, he might even be gracious enough to offer some assistance in the standoff.

“Alpha!” Fenrir heard someone call after he had finished speaking with Liam. He had been on his way to grab some lunch before being interrupted. Turning around, he was nearly knocked to the ground by a group of five-year old’s barreling into him.

Becca’s first litter was growing spectacularly. The five children smiled brightly at him as they clung to every available body part they could reach. One each dangled from his arms and legs and the last was securely wrapped around his waist.

“Hello, children,” Fenrir laughed as he attempted to continue his way to the dining hall, carrying his new companions, resulting in a bit of a waddle. “You’ve all grown a lot while I’ve been gone.”

“Alpha,” the little girl, Emma, dangling from his left bicep said. “You’re not going away again are you? Mama said you have respon-si…able…responsables, and you can’t play with us too much.” He grinned at the girl’s attempt at a larger vocabulary word.

“Sorry pup. A lot of things have been happening lately, so playtime has to be short.” The rest of the brood groaned in displeasure, making the Alpha laugh heartily. “I’ll tell you what, though. I’ll play with you all night during the moon tonight to make up for it.” The three boys of the group cheered and detached themselves from his person to run off excitedly. Emma and her sister, Charlotte, though both pouted and stayed put.

“That’s not fair!” They both argued.

“Hm, I suppose you’re right,” Fenrir conceded. And it was true; it wasn’t fair.

While the young boys would all be enjoying the full moon that night, the girls would both be locked away with their mother and younger siblings who hadn’t been bitten yet. The girls found it boring and often voiced their interest in joining the pack, but Fenrir was adamant that they be kept from turning, in order to allow them to breed later on in life. Every time a breeding female was bitten, it was a harsh blow to the population, so whenever the full moon came, extensive measures were taken to prevent it from happening.

It wasn’t fool proof of course, especially since the moon called to werewolves and their claimed mates both. Mates that were not with child would often fall victim to a sort of frenzy when the moon rose, feeling the call to breed. That meant that they would make every attempt to break through the barriers set up to protect them. Sometimes they succeeded.

“How about this,” Fenrir began, knowing he shouldn’t be promising time that he might not have the next day. “If you two get up extra early tomorrow, I’ll play with you first thing in the morning.” That seemed to do the trick, as the girls cheered, fell from his arm and leg, and ran off to join their brothers.

Fenrir breathed a sigh of relief and rubbed at a tensed muscle at his neck. It might have been a result of the children hanging on him, but it could also be the moon approaching. This was confirmed as he approached the dining hall and the tension in his body rose. He wasn’t the only one feeling the effects. As he glanced around at his packmates, several of them could be seen twitching and rolling their shoulder repeatedly. The sensation was odd, as if you were trying to change, but unable to. Fenrir could almost feel the fur sprouting from his skin, but the moon wouldn’t rise for another several hours, so the feeling wouldn’t go away until then. He would just have to deal with it, as he always did.

“Good afternoon, Alpha,” said a voice across the narrow table Fenrir had chosen to eat at. He looked up from his stew and spotted Gregory, one of the adolescent wolves. He was a gangly thing, having just turned sixteen, along with his brother Matthew.

“Gregory, how are you.” The boy sat across from his Alpha and the pair ate together. It was not unusual for pack members to join their leader during meals, oftentimes trying to glean some bit of wisdom. This instance was no different.

Apparently, Gregory had been one of the pack members tasked with getting a job for the winter. It had been a little over a week, according to the teen, and he had found temporary employment at some place called a ‘Tesco’. The youth was considering staying on past the season, if they would have him, in part because it would be nice to bring in some extra money for the pack, but also because there was a girl he fancied who also worked there.

Fenrir listened with a small smile on his face as he listened to the boy regale him with all the wonderful traits of ‘Victoria’. The alpha heard all about how friendly she was, and about her great smile, and when she smiled at Gregory, he was sure his heart would burst from his chest. The list went on and Fenrir was incredibly happy for the boy, but cautioned him not to try and get too close to her too quickly. He was still young after all, and others might misunderstand werewolves. He wouldn’t want to scare her away. The teen acknowledged this, taking the advice of his alpha to heart.

Their conversation had taken well over an hour and the sky was beginning to darken. Although it was still relatively early in the day, being only a little after two in the afternoon, the winter sun did not stay out long. Even though the change wouldn’t come until sometime closer to 8 o’clock, Fenrir’s wolf had already gained energy and his skin was humming with tension. He needed a release.

Bidding Gregory goodbye, the alpha rose from his seat and prepared another plate of food, and made a beeline for his mates’ cabins. He hadn’t visited the female bitch today. He should amend that.

 

~~~~0000~~~~

 

It didn't take long for Hermione to come to the conclusion that the wolf tail was stuck permanently. It seemed as if Greyback had made it grow from her actual spine, making it a part of her now. No amount of pulling or twisting was getting rid of it.

It also caused issues with her clothes. After washing them all as much as she was able, Hermione found that a tail did not work well with jeans. Even her underwear was forced to bunch up under it, making wearing clothes at all rather uncomfortable. So, she forewent them, opting instead to drape her bedsheet around herself as she had done the day before. It wasn't ideal, but until she could reach a member of the Order, or at least get her wand back, she was stuck with the extra appendage.

All her exertions in trying to get rid of the tail exhausted Hermione and she found the food that had been sitting on the table for days nearly too good to resist. Surely it was poisoned...right? She had felt a bit funny when she sipped the pumpkin juice last time. Maybe if she just took a bite of the food instead? Approaching the table, Hermione could still see the steam rising from the plate of mashed potatoes, roast chicken, and pudding all waiting for her. Her mouth watered.

She picked up the fork that sat next to the plate, scooped up a small bit of mash, and cried in relief. The flavors exploded in her mouth and she actually groaned. Uncaring about whether or not eating so much at one time would make her sick, or if it really was poisoned, the witch grabbed the plate, carried it to her bed so she could enjoy the meal while seated, and dug in. It took her all of five minutes to finish everything and lick the fork and plate clean. Ron would be so proud.

All the food had made her sleepy, and she hadn't actually slept much the previous night since she spent most of it trying to rip her tail off. She was thirsty now too, but knew she shouldn't have that damned pumpkin juice. Instead, she made her way to the washroom and ran the tap. It took a few tries, but Hermione was able to cup enough water into her hands to successfully quench her thirst.

Sitting back on the bed, the smartest witch of her age tried to think of any other way she might escape her prison on her own, but either there were none, or her tired thoughts simply wouldn't come up with any. Her body drooped back onto her flimsy pillow and she was sleeping almost before she shut her eyes.

 

~~~~0000~~~~

She woke later to the sound of her door unlocking. How long had she been asleep? It was already getting dark out, not that that really meant much, being the middle of winter and all. Groggily, she sat up and looked around, searching for some sign of the time. She'd kill for a clock.

"Hello, Sweeting. Already waiting for me, I see." Greyback was carrying another tray of food as he stepped inside and relocked the door. The witch didn't dignify his comment with a response. She watched as he made his way to the table and smiled in approval of her emptied plate. “You’ve eaten. That’s good. Have to keep our pups healthy.”

“You’re delusional.”

“I disagree,” the werewolf said as he picked up the bare plate she had left on the floor. “You’re the delusional one if you think you’re ever getting away from me.”

“Of course I am. You can’t keep me here forever!”

“And why not?” Greyback seemed more amused by this conversation than Hermione thought was normal. In fact, there was a certain tension in the room that she couldn’t really ignore. He clearly was trying to hide it though, if his lax posture against the wall was any indicator.

“The Light will win the war,” she told him. “And when it does, the Order will come searching for me and Harry. You’re going to lose!”

“Alright, let’s say the Order does come for you, and they find you. How do you expect to leave with them? You’ve been claimed as my mate. You will want me until the day you die.” He wasn’t leaning on the wall anymore, and Hermione’s nerves were beginning to warn her of danger as he stalked her from her spot on the bed. Still, she tried to force that fear down and glare at him.

“I’ll never be your mate. I’ll never want you.”

“I beg to differ.” He stood, looming over her now, keeping her eye contact that she refused to break. Gently, he cupped her face in one of his large hands, then tightened his grip so she couldn’t look away even if she tried. “You are my mate, and you will want me until the day you die,” he commanded. “Just knowing that your Alpha wants to breed you will make your cunt slick with need for my cock. You will feel this way until I fill you up and you are weeping for your completion.”

Hermione’s heart was beating at a mile a minute. There was no way this monster would have this sort of control over anyone…was there? Just because he had bitten her those several days ago? No there must be some other explanation. Maybe there had been some secondary curse along with that stupid tail. Greyback couldn’t be that…Greyback…Fenrir.

Hermione’s gaze was still locked with her captor’s as her thoughts drifted from fear to a confusing fogginess. For some reason that didn’t make sense to her, a tension grew between her thighs and a familiar wetness began trickling from her slit.

Had Fenrir, always been so muscular? Of course he had, that was silly. But why hadn’t Hermione ever noticed before? Maybe she had…but she’d never taken a moment to admire how strong he really was, had she? For surely, he was strong. He must be if he managed to take her down so many times. The tension in her pelvis increased at the thought of his past sexual advances on her and she was forced to squeeze her eyes shut as she whimpered.

“That’s it, Sweeting. You can’t fight it. I own you,” the werewolf purred in her ear. The sensation of his breath ghosting over her skin made the witch shiver and another whimper escaped her lips.

“N-no. Never.” This was a losing battle, but Hermione was nothing if not a Gryffindor.

Greyback chuckled in her ear and brought a hand up to undo the tie of her makeshift dress. The fabric dropped and pooled around her waist, exposing her breasts and hardened nipples to the warm air of the room. She quivered under his touch when he gently stroked a thumb over a pert bud and finally turned her head away from him.

“Don’t fight it,” he commanded in her ear.

Suddenly, any reasons Hermione had not to succumb to Fenrir’s advances were entirely forgotten. Her focus was completely on the rough hand squeezing her breast and rolling her nipple. Her head turned back to the large man and she opened her lust-filled eyes to meet his own. The werewolf smirked when he noticed that his compulsion was successful and he could do anything he wanted with the little bitch. He had already been hard when he opened the door to her cabin, but the intensifying scent of arousal in the air, coupled with her increasing willingness made it painful just to wear the jeans he had on.

“Take off my clothes, Sweeting. Slowly.”

And she did.

Taking a moment to process his words, Hermione grazed her hands along his arms and down his stomach, where they found the edge of his t-shirt. She hooked her thumbs under the hem and brought it up and over his head, touching as much skin as she possibly could. In her haze, she noticed how tight his skin fitted over his muscles and couldn’t fight the urge to lick her way up his body as she brought his shirt up, dragging her breasts against him as she went. Ducking back down to work on his jeans, Hermione got on her knees, causing the sheet she had been wearing to fall completely off her body.

She knelt completely bare in front of her Alpha, working on the button and zipper of his jeans and, after a moment, he was free of them. As he did that morning during his dalliance with his other mate, the Alpha wore no underwear, not that Hermione cared in that moment. Her focus was solely on the thick cock that stood at attention in front of her face.

Her hands rested on his upper thighs as she admired it. The slight curve it had, and the vein that travelled along the shaft. It must have been the most beautiful and delicious looking thing the witch had ever seen. Without thinking, for she really hadn’t been able to, she opened her mouth, stuck out her tongue and gave a generous swipe to the underside of the organ.

“Fuck, Sweeting. Suck my cock,” Fenrir grunted, as he brought both hands to the back of her head and gripped her hair. Hermione wasn’t sure if she felt that tug inside her, but it really wasn’t necessary just then, because she was more than willing when she opened her mouth once more and engulfed the stiff prick as far as she could take it.

Her mouth felt so full and the slight saltiness of his skin made the experience even more pleasurable. Glancing up, she watched her Alpha close his eyes and, if she hadn’t known better, it almost looked like he was in pain. But this was the opposite of pain. Knowing that she was pleasing her Alpha made the wetness between her thighs gather and she felt a drop or two begin to make its way down her legs.

While one hand was occupied with the unswallowed portion of her mate’s cock, the witch brought her other hand between her legs. Her entire body trembled and threatened to give way when her finger skimmed over her sensitive clit, but her Alpha wanted her to suck his cock, so that’s what she was going to do. She moaned around her prize as her finger worked magic along her mound and slit. She dipped a finger inside herself and her hips rocked in a weak imitation of what she really wanted.

She tasted precome on her tongue and sucked that away, eager to taste every bit of her mate that she could. She swiped the beads that continued to form at his tip and moaned in surprise when he began to rut against her face, using his hands in her hair to grind into her mouth.

“Fuck! Yes! Your mouth is so hot little mate,” he groaned as Hermione fought to take him in while subduing her gag reflex.

Since there was little work to be done on Hermione’s part with her mate taking control of her head, she moved the hand that had been pumping his cock to his waist and pulled herself closer to him so they would have more skin contact. As Fenrir fucked her mouth, the young witch had begun grinding her entire body on his muscular leg and stroking her clit in rhythm.

“You want more, Sweeting? You want your Alpha’s cock in your tight little cunt?” Hermione could only moan around his organ and hump his leg more vigorously. Her tail, which she had previously hated so much, had curled against her back and the soft fur of it sent shivers along her spine.

Gripping her hair tighter, Fenrir pulled her head completely off his member and grinned when he saw the sight she made. His precome had begun to dribble from her lips and her face was flushed with exertion, and probably air deprivation. Her eyes were clouded over and heavily lidded in lust and need.

“Tell me what you need, Sweeting.” His mate whimpered and her brows scrunched together as she attempted to form words over the intense sensations her body was experiencing. Her fingers continued to stroke her nether regions and she still rutted against the large wolf’s leg, trailing her juices along him.

“Y-your-” She paused as a wave of desire shuddered through her. She moved the hand that had been gripping his waist and brought it to one of her breasts to pinch and tease. The delay was amusing, but counterproductive to Fenrir’s goal. He took the hand in his own and pulled it away from her nipple. She nearly cried in negation.

“Tell me what you need.” Her soft cries and rapid grinding intensified, but she could find no release without him filling her, as he had commanded.

“Your cock! Please! I need it!” She sobbed, attempting to bring herself forward again to take the cock back into her mouth. “Fuck me! Please!” Fenrir almost laughed. This was too easy.

“Very well,” he said. “All you had to do was ask.”

Without another word, the werewolf turned his mate around, so her upper body was facing her bed, but she was still kneeling. Getting down behind her, Fenrir pressed his cockhead to her dripping slit and thrust inside. Hermione cried out in relief. She felt so full and needed more! Her Alpha hadn’t moved any more after his initial thrust, so she ground herself backwards to encourage him to continue.

“M-more! Please! Fuck me!” Fenrir chuckled as she begged. He liked that she was being more vocal in her passion. He also found that he enjoyed the look of her tail tightly curling against her back, signaling her arousal, not that he needed that to know.

The oncoming full moon did not make going slow easy, but if doing so would make the bitch beg him so prettily, he was determined to do it. Carefully, he withdrew his organ almost completely out, making her sob in need against the mattress. Then, without warning, he slammed back into her. She yelped in surprise and pleasure as the force pushed her tits against the fabric heightening the experience.

“Y-yes yes yes.” Was the only word she seemed able to say anymore as the thrusting picked up speed and Fenrir brought a finger to her clit to stroke.

Hermione’s legs spread wider, welcoming more of her mate as deep as he could go. She needed him to fill her. It was like her soul was calling for it and it wouldn’t be satisfied until he had emptied all of his come inside her. As she thought of this while he pounded away, she could feel her orgasm barreling forward. It finally crashed over her with a scream when her Alpha leaned forward and firmly bit down on her claiming mark.

Her walls spasmed around the thick shaft inside her, drawing his own orgasm as well. She could feel him pulsing inside her as she rolled her hips to ride out her climax. The feel of him gently sliding in and out of her soothing her post-orgasm. She was finally complete and full.

She was full.

She was _full._

With Fenrir _Greyback’s_ semen!

Again!

Why had she done this? How did he do this to her? It wasn’t even like mind control, or the Imperius! It was as if he had completely taken away thought, not just overridden it! She must have tensed up because she could hear Greyback start chuckling behind her.

“Something wrong, Sweeting?”

“Get off me,” Hermione demanded from her vulnerable position. She would have tried to get out from under the beast on her own, but she had been pinned to the side of the mattress and he was much larger than her.

“I don’t think I will, you see; the full moon is just a few hours away and, with the wolf so close to the surface, my needs are more acute than usual.”

“What do you mean?” She knew the answer, deep down, but was hoping beyond hope that she was wrong.

“That means, my little bitch, that I’m going to need to mate a few more times before my day is through. And since I’m already buried inside a nice warm pussy, I think I’ll keep using it until I’m good and done. Who knows, if you’re not already carrying my pups, you will be by tomorrow.” Greyback gave the skin between her shoulder blades a sensual swipe with his tongue as he spoke, making the witch below him shiver.

Hermione didn’t know if she could do this again, especially so soon. She was drained physically and mentally, but her captor said he wanted her again.

He wanted her…

The thought made her still-wet channel spasm pleasurably and goosebumps rise on her skin. What was happening?

Then she remembered that he had ordered her to desire him whenever he wanted. And he wanted.

Just as before, her mind became cloudy and her inhibitions dropped to an all-time low. Her last coherent thought was that Greyback was probably right. If she wasn’t already, she would likely be pregnant by morning.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s this? This almost looks like…an UPDATE?   
> As always, many thanks to the lovely Kabg01 for being my beta!

Minerva McGonagall sat at her desk, writing a coded message to members of the Order of the Phoenix who had taken up residence in multiple safehouses across Great Britain. Ever since Severus made his true allegiances known, all their secrets became compromised. It was a miracle she was even able to continue teaching at all, let alone keep her own office and free range of the castle. The situation wasn’t ideal, but it did allow her to keep one ear to the ground and report back anything she might learn.

Presently, she was informing her cohorts of the brutal treatment of the Carrow siblings towards many of the students, particularly the muggleborns. Fortunately, the youngsters had been disappearing from the school gradually as the year progressed, thanks to the efforts of Mr. Longbottom. There was little Minerva could do on her own and she hoped everything would come to a conclusion soon. She did what she could though to help the poor students sneak away to the safety of the Room of Requirement.

It was nearly lunchtime, on December 27th when the witch finally set down her quill and leaned back in her chair to take a breath. One of the castle cats padded across the room from its spot on her couch and hopped onto the desk, searching for scratches. The Deputy Headmistress complied with a tired smile and reached out her hand to rub the spot between the feline’s ears. The pair sat there for a moment, content in the little slice of peace, before a bright white light burst into the room, spooking the animal and causing it to screech and fall off the furniture.

“Minerva!” The patronus practically boomed.

For an instant, the witch feared it might be overheard, which would be trouble if it fell on the ears of any of the resident Death Eaters. But then, she realized that this particular patronus was familiar to her, but it did not belong to any current Order members.

“I know you have no reason to trust me at this time,” the doe continued. “But I could not sit idly by while knowing what I know. Potter and Granger have been captured.”

Despite the messenger’s identity, Minerva froze. Potter had been taken? By whom? You-Know-Who? Snatchers? Rogue wizards?

“The Dark Lord has granted custody of the pair to Fenrir Greyback. That is all I can say. Do with it as you will.”

And with that abrupt farewell, the doe patronus vanished in a puff of shimmering smoke. Minerva didn’t know what to do as she sat, staring at the empty space the charm had just occupied. Why would Severus tell her this? He had made it abundantly clear that he supported the Dark Lord, yet he would share this vital information so openly? He had even risked his patronus being seen by his dark comrades.

No, it had to be a trick. Still, just in case she was wrong, the woman scratched out another coded note at the end of the letter she had just finished, before sending it off with the owl she had waiting on a nearby perch. It would undoubtedly be intercepted, but hopefully raise no suspicion.

 

~~~~0000~~~~

 

Two days later, Minerva sat in the kitchen of the burrow, with Molly Weasley bustling from stove to table and back again. It was impractical to meet more than a few Order members at a time, so Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would have to do. Of course, she was almost definitely being followed, so she could at least use the excuse of seeing how Ronald was recovering from his “illness”. The boy in question had been sequestered in his room, apparently in despair over his hasty decision to abandon Mr. Potter and Miss Granger on their quest. Mrs. Weasley, of course, was all too relieved to have him back home, in relative safety.

“And you’re absolutely certain it was Severus who sent the Patronus?” Arthur asked from across the warped wooden table.

“Yes, Arthur. I have no doubt. But if what he says is true, then we might have a larger issue than his allegiance. Mister Potter and Miss Granger were searching for You-Know-Who’s horcruxes. Albus didn’t share much with me before he passed, but Potter might have known where to look.”

“Do you think Ron could be of any help?” The patriarch asked.

“Possibly. He did spend a good deal of time on that hunt of theirs.”

“But he’s home now,” Molly interjected. “And he’s better off for it. If only Harry and Hermione had come back too and let the adults deal with this mess, this wouldn’t have happened.” The poor woman began to get emotional and pulled out a handkerchief as she sat at the table.

“What can we do, Minerva?” Arthur asked, gently stroking his wife’s hand on top of the table.

The wizened witch glared at the wood in thought. What could they do? They didn’t know where Potter and granger were, even if they hadn’t been captured. The boy hadn’t left any way to communicate with them, so that was a lost cause. The young Mr. Weasley had already tried to find them, but came back empty handed, so even he couldn’t be used to track them down. That meant one thing.

“I don’t think we can do anything.” Molly stared at the professor in horror, for surely there must be something. “At least, not right now. We have no idea where they are; we can’t even begin to plan a rescue mission. The most we can attempt is asking your youngest son what he knows about the horcruxes and try to destroy them ourselves.”

“You need a basalisk fang,” Ron said suddenly from the entranceway. His voice was quiet, but still somehow seemed too loud for the room. The three adults gaped at him, dumbfounded.

“And where do you suggest we find one of those?” Mcgonagall asked.

“You should find a whole set of them down in the Chamber of Secrets. Harry killed one.” Minerva was suddenly reminded of the fantastic story the two boys had told in their second year, about the giant snake travelling through the pipes of Hogwarts. Knowing what she did now, she no longer thought the boys were lying to get out of detention, as she did several years ago.

Ron sat down with the three adults, uncharacteristically silent, waiting for someone to say something. He was clearly still distraught about not being able to find his friends after going back for them, only to find out that they had been captured by a werewolf. The group eventually resumed their conversation, discussing the bet course of action for the Order to take down You-Know-Who.

~~~~0000~~~~

Hermione was floating. Or, at least it felt that way. She was warm and content. Her body felt relaxed in a way she couldn’t remember ever feeling. As she drifted down to the land of the waking, her senses began to return and she became more aware of the bed she was lying in, and the soft sheets wrapped around her.

It was a shame such a peaceful happiness had to be broken by the realization that the witch was still trapped in the shack Fenrir Greyback had locked her in. After glancing around the room though, she was relieved to find that he was no longer present. Good thing too, or she might have been forced to continue the activities he had insisted on for the past few hours.

Wait. If he was gone, then that meant the moon was rising soon, or had already done so. Jolting up to a sitting position, her gaze darted up to the solitary window to search for a sign of the satellite. She had to get up and take a few steps to spot it, but she did find it, hiding behind some thin clouds.

It was beautiful in its’ shimmering pearlescence. It was so captivating in fact, that Hermione felt something similar to the tension in her pelvis that seemed to arise only when Greyback tried to compel her to do his bidding. She tried to look away, to banish the feeling, but when she did, the feeling still grew.

What time was it? Had the moon reached its peak? Something in the witch told her it hadn’t. Maybe it was some new instincts Greyback had given her when he bonded her to him, or maybe because it was still low in the sky. Whatever it was, the sensation only grew as the minutes ticked away, and with it, the strangest thoughts popped into the witch’s head.

Where had Greyback gone anyway? Was he coming back? If he did, would he fuck her? Probably. A shiver traveled up her spine at the thought and she tension in her pelvis traveled to her pussy, making it ache. Hermione whimpered and glanced at the door, the only exit.

Something in Hermione’s mind told her to try the door again. Maybe if she could open it, she could find the werewolf and…

No. That’s not what she wanted.

Shaking her head, the witch took a few steps toward the wall farthest from the door, even as her heart raced in her chest.

What time was it? What was happening? Was it the full moon? It had to be. To keep herself from falling prey to the absurd thoughts running through her mind, she chose to keep herself busy by pacing the room.

It was getting very warm, too warm, but the young woman kept at it, doing her best to avoid the door.

Maybe she could try to find a way out of this again. She needed to find Harry and the rest of the Horcruxes! It might have actually been a good thing Ron had run off, or he might be in this same situation. If only she could escape, she was absolutely sure she could at least find a way to the Burrow. The door shook but didn’t budge much more than that.

Wait. When had she touched the doorknob?

The bushy-haired witch suddenly found herself standing in front of the surprisingly sturdy piece of wood, gripping the knob like a vice. She loosened her grip and thought about stepping away, but…

How else would she escape?

She shook the knob again.

Nothing.

She wasn’t surprised, but that strange little voice in her head told her to keep trying. So she did. It kept telling her that she needed to get out of this shack. She needed to find him.

‘Harry?’ She thought at the voice. No that wasn’t right.

‘Ron?’ She thought again. No no, he wouldn’t do at all.

Who else could she be escaping for? She’d sent her parents away. But that voice suggested that she knew. He was the only one who could ease that ache between her thighs that had only grown in the minutes since she’d woken up.

Without an answered to her unvoiced question, Hermione continued fidgeting with the doorknob, until she abandoned it and decided to simply pound against the wood. The damn thing was so strong!

Maybe her nails would do the trick. She tried scratching away at the wood, her heart beating into a frenzy with the adrenaline that seemed to rush through her system. Yes, scratching was at least chipping away at the wood, even if her fingers had started to bleed.

Maybe…maybe if she use her knees. And her elbows! She had to get out. She had to find him!

Hermione continued to beat and scratch at the door for several more minutes, which turned into hours. Her hands, arms and legs were bloodied not long after she began her frantic fight, but still she persisted. If only she could get out and relieve this tension, this need within her. She needed to…needed _something_. Needed _him_.

~~~~0000~~~~

Fenrir Greyback rolled over. The sun was shining, and the grass was dewy beneath his back where he lay. Another successful full moon, as usual. Sure, he was a little sore after all the play he had promised the children, he wasn’t as young as he once was after all, but a good stretch would take care of the worst of it. Getting up from his spot in the field, the Alpha glanced around and saw that most of the wolves were still asleep, the children curled next to their father.

He didn’t spot Maggie among the crowd, so he assumed the woman must have already woken to start breakfast. She was so great. After dressing, Fenrir indeed found her in the dining hall’s kitchen, pulling together mountains of food that would surely last only a few seconds once the rest of the pack woke.

“Morning, Alpha. Hungry?” The grey-haired woman smirked knowingly.

“Famished.” Without even responding, the pack chef piled a plate high with meat, potatoes and an assortment of other goodies that she knew he liked, and offered it to him with one hand while her other continued stirring a pot of porridge. If she hadn’t been a werewolf, Fenrir would have been very impressed by the strength in that one arm to carry the plate.

“When you’re done, I’ll prepare plates for your mates. They’re probably starving too.” Oh, he had almost forgotten about them. Now that he was reminded though, a thrill of excitement sparked in him to find out if they had conceived yet. The mountainous man rushed to the nearest dining table and practically inhaled his food, despite Maggie’s protests that his stomach would hurt if he ate too fast. Silly woman, didn’t she know he ate like this on a regular basis?

As he ate, the other wolf had been putting together a sizable, but still more modest than Fenrir’s, serving on two food trays for the Alpha to collect. The large man thanked her, kissed her on a cheek in appreciation, and made his way to cabin number one: the boy.

~~~~0000~~~~

Pet woke to the sound of his door being opened. Even after it had closed again though, his foggy mind was having trouble remembering where he was and who was there. It was only when the other person approached his bed and handed him his glasses, that he realized he was face to face with his captor. A large part of him wanted to recoil, but he made himself stay where he was and not show fear. Too bad the werewolf could probably smell it on him.

“Good morning, Pet. Sleep well?” The boy frowned at him. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, yes, he had slept _very_ well. Instead, he didn’t say anything in response.

As he stayed lying on the bed, he could feel Greyback’s gaze travel over him. He had fixed the sheets on the mattress, so he was well covered, but the feeling was still invasive. What was the werewolf smirking about?

“I’ve brought your breakfast, mate. It’s time to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” Lie. He was starving.

“Nonsense. Eat.”

“No.” The word hardly came out of his mouth before Pet found himself lifted into the air and deposited at the chair, in front of the small table.

“Eat,” Greyback said, more insistently.

“I don’t want any of your food,” Pet growled, despite the pull to do as he was bid. He already noticed his own hand gripping the fork of its own volition. He knew the werewolf saw this too, but was silent for a moment for some reason, seemingly mulling something over.

“If you eat, I will leave when you’re finished.”

“Leave?”

“Yes. You eat, I’ll take your plate and go. You won’t see me until your next meal.” What was this? It was almost like a reward just for eating. Pet supposed it was an effective strategy, attracting more bees with honey than vinegar and all that. He saw the game that was being played and decided to go with it for now. He would get what he wanted, but he wouldn’t let his guard down.

Determined now, Pet picked up his fork and began eating, all while Greyback watched him, his grin growing with every bite.

He kept his word. As soon as the boy finished his meal, and nearly licked the plate clean, the werewolf collected the plate and cutlery, and left him alone in the cabin. Still quite confused about what just happened, Pet continued his day-to-day investigations of the structure and trying to find a way to escape.

~~~~0000~~~~

Fenrir locked the door behind him and cast his usual wards. The second cabin was a short distance away, so he left the boy’s dirtied plate at his door and picked up the girl’s where he had left it.

His second visit would not be as satisfying as the first it would seem. When he approached the girl’s cabin door, the Alpha could immediately tell that he had not been successful yet in impregnating her. The solid wooden door was thrown off its hinges and splintered in many places as it hung to the side of the entranceway.

Greyback frowned deeply.

Blood was smeared among the wreckage and the unconscious figure of his second mate lay beneath the pile, bruised and bloodied. The poor girl had no doubt tried to reach him all night in a moon-induced need to be filled. He should have prepared for this possibility, but at least the wards had kept her from getting past the entranceway. Maybe tying her down would do the trick.

Maybe tying her down would be a good option for other activities too…

Stepping around the mess of splinters, Fenrir left the plate of food on the solitary table before pulling out his wand and cleaning up the mess his mate had made. He didn’t so much care about the girl getting splinters, but he walked barefoot most of the time himself and didn’t want to run that risk.

Once the door was repaired, he glanced down once more at the girl and sighed. Well, it looked like he would just have to try harder with her. He levitated her to the bed, which was still in disarray from last night, and dropped her onto it. She must have been exhausted because she hardly stirred through the entire ordeal.

Unbuttoning his jeans, Fenrir waltzed over to her, spread her legs, and proceeded to attempt, once again, to fill her with pups.


End file.
